Magical Dreams I
by Penn O'Hara
Summary: We all know now that Frank Donovan is a family man, but how did such a closed and contained man open himself enough to let a woman into his life?  My take on Frank's history.   Republished after pulling earlier posts down.
1. Chapter 1

_**MAGICAL DREAMS**_

_**Penn O'Hara 2004**_

_**UC Disclaimers apply.**_

_**Prologue**_

_**Present day...**_

**Donovan lay on the picnic blanket, his head propped on a hand, watching his wife with their son. She was pointing out the ants scavenging their picnic crumbs from the blanket and the boy was watching with the fascination that only the very young can muster. Their daughter was lying next to him, so close he could smell the powder-freshness of her skin and hear the popping noises she made with her lips.**

**He lay back with his hands under his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Tuning his ears into the sounds around him, he could just make out the soft spray of the Clarence Buckingham fountain behind them and the trill of birds scuffling in the trees above. He was glad she had pushed him to go on this picnic in Grant Park. The autumn temperatures demanded they wear thick sweaters and jeans, but the sun filtering through the Chicago morning warded off the worst chill.**

**He'd come down hard on Jake last night, and the necessity of it had disappointed him. It was a fault in his leadership if his team felt the need to go behind his back. But being more open with them was an unnecessary luxury at this stage of their partnership. He wasn't yet ready to share his family. **

**His daughter gave a little shriek and Donovan's eyes flew open to see his wife scoop the baby from beside him and place her on the blanket at their feet. She planted a quick kiss on his mouth and smiled at him.**

**"Penny for them."**

**He smiled back. "Still remembering the look on Jake's face last night. I think I've cured him at last."**

**"Oh, don't count on it. I don't know him as well as you do, but I've met him now, and he has a certain bull-dog nature about him."**

**"Maybe, but perhaps he'll think twice next time."**

**"That night at the Duke of Perth was a hoot!" **

**She snuggled into his side and slipped a hand under his sweater. He sucked in his abs and half-rolled towards her. The stroke of her hand on his skin was both intense and soothing. **

**"Can we do it again soon?" she asked. "I loved the way you lost control after I sang to you."**

**His brow lifted. "I get the feeling that it's your life's ambition to make me lose control. You've given the team a quest and I'm afraid they won't stop till they get to the truth. I didn't intend for you to do it the first time."**

**"You know me, Frank D. Impulsive to a fault." She leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Forgive me?" **

**He wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. She'd complicated things for him and thwarted his need to prevent his working life from bleeding into his personal one. The night he called her from work before going with his team to the pub took an unexpected turn with the creation of 'Marguerite'. **

**"I'll let you know," he said.**

**"Tease." She ran her hand up his chest and tweaked his nipple. He flinched, but didn't take the bait. "Did they like the photo of you in your decadent youth?"**

**"You want your pound of flesh, don't you?" His eyes sought out his daughter at their feet, her eyelids drooping before sleep overtook her. He scanned for their son and wasn't surprised to see him putting blades of grass in the ants' way to see what they would do. Both safe. "Actually, Alex was more interested in whether or not I'd modeled in an art class."**

**"Cheeky girl! If she only knew." **

**"You never did pay me that day," he murmured, still watching his children.**

**"Pardon?"**

**"The day we met." He looked back at her and smiled. "You never paid me. You did feed me though."**

**"True, it was the least I could do. My God, your stamina was legendary." **

**"And my arms have never been the same since. Why you wanted that particular pose–"**

**"It won me the Burlington Prize that year, didn't it?" She ran her finger along his bottom lip and he parted his mouth slightly to accommodate her. "Although I'm still not sure it was on my merit alone that I won. Three-quarters of the Judges were women and they couldn't take their eyes off the painting – off you, that is."**

**Her fingers smoothed his brow and he shut his eyes again, relaxing into her touch. "There was plenty to see. You fed me so much, I doubled my weight by the time the painting was finished."**

**"Never! You're a greyhound. You burn it off just breathing. And you did some mighty heavy breathing if I remember." She put her head back on his chest. "I wonder if we'd have found each other if it hadn't been for that day in the studio."**

**"Possibly."**

**"Possibly, if you had remained at Harvard, but you disappeared." Donovan heard the quiet pain in her voice. "I still haven't forgiven you for that." **

**"I know."**

_**Chapter One**_

_**Fifteen years earlier...**_

**Donovan opened the door into a large studio naturally lit by ceiling-to-floor windows. There was only one student working at her easel and Frank frowned. He had been told to expect at least five. She was sketching with charcoal, filling the white page with lines and planes after consulting the subject of her drawing – a bare wooden chair placed on a podium, its back facing the artist.**

**"You're late," she said, not looking around.**

**"So's everyone else."**

**"No one else is coming." She went on with her sketching, drawing sweeping lines with economy and precision. "They were titillated enough to agree to do a male study in the first place, but when it came down to coming up with the money to pay for your time, they backed out. I got left with the bill, so you'd better be good."**

**She turned around then, a look of mild surprise on her face. "You're the guy coming over from Harvard?"**

**"What were you expecting?"**

**She cocked her head to the side. "In a law student? Someone more… studious. Is this," she swept a hand at the chair on the dais, "part of the prerequisite to passing the Bar?" Her manner was short, almost to the point of rudeness. He got the feeling that she thought art models were a lower form of life and law students not far behind.**

**"It's the prerequisite to studying and still eating." He moved forward, tossed his duffel bag onto a paint-splattered table and straddled the wooden chair.**

**Her mouth twisted with annoyance. It was a very attractive mouth and he thought the rest of her wasn't bad either. Long limbs, slim torso, her hair in the latest layer cut and her face was pretty enough: no outstanding feature, but a nice package when put together. But she wasn't looking happy and he wondered what he'd done wrong besides being late. Maybe she just had a bad day and was taking it out on him.**

**"You **_**are**_** aware it's a nude study?"**

**"I am."**

**"Then you are overdressed." She turned back to her easel, and his temper flared at the dismissal. He banked it quickly. That temper nearly got him kicked out of college.**

**"You haven't explained what you require."**

**She frowned, looking at him again. "How many times have you done this?"**

**"This is my first. Are you going to ease me through it or just continue to be a bitch?"**

**She gasped and he was glad he managed to shock her. It gave him an edge his pride desperately needed. There was little to be gained cursing the circumstances that necessitated he make what money he could, but that didn't mean he couldn't make someone else just as uncomfortable about it. Somehow it eased his nerves and gave him back some control. He would have to work on that down the track, along with his temper, but right now, he didn't care. Not with this rude woman, anyway.**

**He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt, holding her gaze as he did so. He wasn't going to be the one to break eye contact. Tossing the shirt onto the back of the chair, he bent to remove his loafers and then went for the button of his jeans. He hadn't bothered with a belt and his pants already hung low on his hips – too thin from hard work and not enough sustenance. He could only afford one meal a day, already having to pay for rent off-campus and college fees eating into everything he earned.**

**The sound of his zipper was loud, amplified by the acoustics of the studio, and drew her gaze downward. What was she waiting for? Maybe she expected him to gyrate to unheard music as he undressed. He gripped the waistband of his jeans and waited, arching an eyebrow.**

**She shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be doing this and be bashful about it."**

**"I didn't expect a private showing nor did I realize a strip show was part of the deal."**

**"Whatever." **

**She turned back to her sketching but he saw her hand shake as she positioned the charcoal onto the paper. He was gratified she wasn't so experienced at this either.**

**"Jockey shorts?" he asked as he stepped out of his jeans.**

**"Whatever," she said again. "I can probably work around them. For now. No jewelry, though." **

**He didn't have any. Anything of worth he'd hocked long ago. He didn't even own a watch which was why he was late. Donovan straddled the chair again, feeling better with leaving on the minimal underwear, but he made sure that his shirt was hung strategically over the chair's back.**

**He waited.**

**She finally looked up from her work, glanced over him and frowned again. "You're too thin."**

**"I know."**

**"You should eat more."**

**He'd be damned if he told her why he couldn't. He had some pride, even though he resorted to this form of modeling. The photographic work was too few and far between and this paid more.**

**"Your hair is too long. It hides the curve of your neck. And how do you expect me to work around the beard?"**

**He clenched his teeth. "If you're trying to get me to walk out, forget it. You booked me and I'm staying." **_**And I need the money, but you're not going to know that.**_** "I'm not shaving the beard."**

**"I'll just have to make do then, won't I?"**

**Donovan grabbed the back of the chair, and squeezed hard, channeling his anger into the harmless wood instead of releasing the verbal abuse he felt this woman deserved.**

**He watched as she stroked her charcoal across the paper again, lips pursed in concentration. "You won't be very popular as a nude model if you don't shave it," she added.**

**"Maybe I'm more concerned about passing my exams than taking off my clothes?"**

**She ignored his sarcasm, seemingly more interested in his flesh as her gaze swept him. She frowned again. **_**Why was his body imperfect for her when the photographers who used him complimented his physique?**_

**His discomfort level rose another few notches at the clinical way she dissected him, then she put down her charcoal and walked slowly toward him. He didn't move, though he wanted to grab his clothes and walk out the door, fast. Stopping a foot in front of him, she looked down, then her hand moved out to touch him. An iron will he didn't know he possessed prevented him from flinching as she reached down.**

**She moved his shirt a little to the left and he let out the breath he had been holding. Standing back, she looked at the effect. "Put your left arm across the top of the chair and your right elbow on the wood's edge."**

**He followed her instructions, annoyed that she couldn't find it within herself to say please. **

**"Now, rest your jaw on your right fist. That'll hide some of the beard anyway." She sighed. "The long hair spoils it." She reached out with both hands for the sides of his hair, but he jerked back.**

**"For the fee, you get to look but not touch," he growled.**

**She pulled back her hands, her eyes narrowing. "Touchy, aren't we?"**

**"No, **_**you're**_** being touchy. I'm exercising my prerogative."**

**"Fine then, I'll get you a rubber band and **_**you**_** can pull your hair back."**

**She walked away and he relaxed a little, willing the tension out of his muscles. Donovan was fast reaching a point where he couldn't do this, no matter how much he needed the money.**

**She sorted through her paint crate and came back with a red rubber band. He took it from her and holding her gaze, reached back and up, grabbing his hair and threading it through the band.**

**"Stop!" She put up a hand. "Hold it there. Like that. I want you like that." It was the first time he'd seen her animated, her eyes wide and bright. Still holding up her hand, she rushed back to the easel, muttering. "Perfect. Perfect." Grabbing her charcoal, she made vigorous movements on the paper, then studied him again. **

**He froze as instructed with his arms behind his head and the angle forced him to look at her from beneath his brows, a position he wasn't going to be able to hold for long.**

**"Shit," she said, "can you at least smile or something? You look like you're being tortured at the moment."**

_**And I'm not?**_** He tried for a smile but wasn't surprised it came out as a death grin.**

**"Shit," she said again. "You **_**are**_** new at this. Think happy thoughts– I don't even know your name..."**

_**That's because you were too rude to ask.**_** "Frank."**

**"Frank. Well, Frank, think of something nice. Got a girlfriend? Think about her. She's being nice to you, she's–"**

**"I don't have a girlfriend." **_**I don't have time for one.**_

**"Well, Frank, whatever turns you on. Just use your imagination, if you have one. Imagine you are doing precisely what you want to do right now and it pleases you immensely. Think you can manage that?" She turned back to her drawing.**

**Frank pictured his hands around this woman's throat, pressing into her skin and pushing on her vocal chords to stop the insults from leaving her mouth. **_**That**_** pleased him immensely. In fact, he was getting off on it and his lips curved into a satisfied bow.**

**Glancing at him again, her charcoal froze on the paper mid-stroke. Her lips parted and her eyes flicked from his mouth, to his eyes and back to his mouth. The hand with the charcoal slid slowly down to her lap. "My God. That is so..."**

**"Frightening?" **

**"No...no... sexy..."**

**He dropped his arms to his sides. **_**What the hell was he doing here anyway?**_

**"Don't! Don't move!" She reached out to him, her chair scraping on the floorboards.**

**"I don't need the money this bad," he said, getting up and reaching for his jeans. He had them on and was flipping his shirt around his shoulders when she grabbed his arm at the bicep. The touch of her hand on his flesh froze him. It was cool and soft but it sent a jolt of something coursing through his body. He looked down at her hand and then at her eyes and then at her mouth.**

**"Please stay," she said. "I want you to stay."**

_**Chapter Two**_

**She put down her charcoal and smiled at him. It was the first time in the three hours he'd been sitting for her that she had done so, and the transformation of her face from sheer concentration to unaffected pleasure made him smile back.**

**"I'm done for the day," she said. "I've finished the sketches, and tomorrow I'll be ready to add paint. Come and have a look. I'm quite pleased with them."**

**Donovan slowly slid off the chair and it was no easy feat. His leg muscles had cramped hours ago and his hips felt as if they had locked parallel to the floor. His tailbone ached and even on his feet, he couldn't straighten out completely. Bending over, he leaned on the back of the chair, panting, waiting for the blood to rejuvenate his muscles and get them working again. **

**"I'll be there in an hour," he gritted and she laughed. That had to be a first too. **

**"Here, I'll help you."**

**She crossed the floor to him, but he held out a hand to stop her. He was too independent to accept help, ingrained since childhood. "No, I'll be fine. Just give me a minute." Besides, he was as good as naked and he wasn't used to this new warmth from her.**

**"Fine. When you're dressed, I'll take you to dinner. You deserve it." She moved away and he heard her humming as she flipped through her sketches. He thought he recognized the song but couldn't place it.**

**He dressed slowly, working out the kinks as he went. "Will you need me for the paint?" he asked, hoping the answer would be no.**

**"Of course!" she said, her voice eager. "I still have to do skin tone and the light on the planes of your body. You're not getting out of it that easy." **

**She held up the black and white sketches for him to see and he moved closer. They were quite good, bold but life-like. Thankfully, she wasn't into expressionism. Her capture of his face surprised him. It was strong and angled, his beard not softening the lines at all. But it was his eyes that were the biggest shock. He had been trying for brooding and dangerous. What he saw made him swallow down a lump in his throat. **

**"I don't really look like that, do I?"**

**"Incredible, isn't it?" she said proudly. "I can't believe I was able to reproduce it. Frank, **_**you**_** are incredible. It's what all the yesteryear screen idols tried for in the Arabian Sheik movies. Sexy but ruthless. And you did it, **_**without**_** the aid of make-up. You are going to have the judges swooning over you."**

**"Judges?"**

**"Yes! If I'm as happy with the finished product as the sketches, this is going to be my entry for the competition in three months. I had no idea what I was going to submit until now." She placed the sketches gently into a large portfolio propped against the easel and secured the clasps. "Come on, let's get some dinner."**

**She took him to a local diner mostly used by students, so it was noisy, crowded and lively. They had to share a table, but the women were friends of hers and willing to put up with Frank opposite them. She sat down beside him, cornering him against the window and introduced the girls as Cheryl, Mandy and Jen. To him they typified the sorority girls he avoided whenever possible, trendily-dressed and sure of themselves, as they sat huddled three to a bench, interested curiosity in their eyes. They giggled a lot and it wore on Frank's nerves after a while, but not enough to put him off his food. He ordered a hamburger and thick shake, foregoing the soda in lieu of something more substantial.**

**"You two known each other long?" Jen asked.**

**"This isn't a date," Frank said, quick to keep the record straight.**

**"Frank's part of my Art assignment. He's posing for my oil on canvas requisite... nude."**

**"Shit, no!" **

**"You're kidding!"**

**"My God!"**

**Frank kept his head down, concentrating on his food. He should have seen this coming.**

**"You could have told us sooner," Mandy said. "Have you finished?"**

**"Yes," Frank said.**

**"No, I'm not. And he's not either. I've done the sketches but still have to do the oil. Shadow, muscle, skin..." **

**He looked up in time to catch her wink.**

**"Shit!" Cheryl said.**

**"We'll be there," Jen said.**

**Given the next available opportunity, Frank was going to wrap his hands around his meal-ticket's throat.**

**"So what do you have to do to get into nude modeling, Frank?" Mandy asked, a coy grin on her face.**

**Payback time. He chewed slowly, sizing up the slim blonde, then swallowed, knowing what she wanted to hear. "I put this body through an hour workout every night. I strip to my shorts to stretch and strain, sweat and pant my way through a strict regimen." Their giggling stopped and the grins slid from their faces. "Then I steam the tiredness out in a hot shower, and when there's a girl in my room, I do it all over again on the bed with her." He bit down on his burger and switched his gaze from each of their shocked faces while he ate and waited.**

**A hand touched his elbow and he let the other girls off the hook to turn to her. "Back off, Frank," she said. "We don't want to frighten them away."**

**"You look good," Mandy said, recouping, "but I bet you're not that good."**

**"Yes, he is." She was coming to his defense now, her reply quick and adamant. "Don't make rash statements when you don't know what you're talking about." **

**He was glad she was irritated. It would teach her a lesson for being so blatant about why he was with her. "Make up your mind, Mercury," he said. The nickname slipped out, but as soon as he said it, he realized it fitted her. "You can't treat me like a piece of meat and then object to your friends doing the same." **

**"Wrong, Frank. You're a work of art. **_**My**_** work of art."**

**The girls giggled again, but he didn't see the joke. He leaned into her and put his lips to her ear. "Your turn to back off." She shivered and he liked her reaction. He was tempted to take it further to see what would happen.**

**She turned her head slowly and he didn't pull back. Their mouths weren't touching, but his body stirred at the promise of it. "I'm **_**paying**_** for your time, aren't I?" she said.**

**His blood ran cold. He didn't like her implication. "Not this time. You don't own me after a burger meal."**

**"I never said you were cheap, Frank. Only good."**

**"Hey you two," Cheryl complained. "Is this a private party or can anyone join in?"**

**"So are you going to make modeling a career, Frank?" Jen asked.**

**"Only during the summer." These women didn't take him seriously; why should he bother with the truth? "Try wearing a suit and tie in these circuit courts during the hot months."**

**"Frank's a law student, and he's quitting modeling when he finishes my sitting."**

**This was getting out of hand and Mercury sounded too proprietary. "I recall canceling that sitting a moment ago," he said. **

**"You can't. You made a commitment."**

**"You draw me for a few hours and that gives you the right to tell me what to do?"**

**"I've seen more of you than your college lecturers have and **_**they**_** tell you what to do."**

**The girls laughed heartily, but he'd had enough. Dropping his burger, Donovan hitched his duffel bag over his shoulder and pushed her off the bench, grabbing her arm before she sprawled onto the floor. He ignored her protests as he dragged her behind him through the diner and out the door. Let the other women pick up the tab; payment for their amusement at his expense.**

**Once on the sidewalk, he swung her round to him. "Pay me now so I can get out of here."**

**"Why should I after that little caveman show?" She rubbed her arm, her eyes hard and bright. **

**"You owe me for three hours of sitting **_**and**_** for necessitating the caveman stuff, so don't pin the blame on me."**

**"You men get so touchy when your women prick at your masculinity."**

_**Had he missed a page?**_** "You're my woman now?"**

**"Do you want me to be, Frank?"**

**He did a double take. Mercury tipped from one end of the scale to another in the space of a heartbeat.**

**"I wasn't looking for a woman who insults me in one breath and then puts a ring in my nose in another."**

**"I'm sorry, it's just I get a hint of a pricklier side of you every now and then. It makes me want to... poke at it." **

**"Then be prepared to get your finger bitten off when you do," he snapped.**

**She blinked at his threat then laughed, putting her hand on his wrist. "I'll behave. Honest. Forgive me?"**

**There was no good reason why he should, except that she intrigued him. "Pay me now and I'll forgive you tomorrow."**

**"Better still, where's your car? Why don't you come back to my place and I'll fix you up there?"**

**"No car."**

**"I'll drive you then."**

**"I'd rather not."**

**"What? Rather not get paid?" **

**"I'd rather get paid. I'd rather not go with you to your place."**

**"Then you won't get paid. Simple."**

**He stared at her, then sighed, too aware of her hand still on his arm. "Where's your car?" **

**"I thought you'd see it my way. Come on."**

**"How long will this take?" He matched her stride along the sidewalk.**

**"Why? Got another sitting in your diary?"**

**"I'm not on the clock still?" **

**"I'm not paying you for your conversation, if that's what you mean." Her suggestive glance convinced him she was trouble and yet still he followed. **

**She led him to a deep green Ford Escort and released the locks. He would have opened her door for her but she was too quick for him. Mercurial **_**and**_** independent.**

**Pulling out smoothly into the traffic, she gave him a quick glance. "So, you live on your own?"**

_**Damn.**_** She felt the need to make small conversation.**

**"Yes."**

**"Whereabouts?"**

**"Near the college."**

**"I figured that; you don't have a car. Got family?"**

**"You mean, alive?"**

**"Well, yes... alive–"**

**"No."**

**She went silent for a while.**

**"Fine," she said. "You want to play the mystery man? I'll do all the talking then. I'm in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, majoring in music and art. I want to work in the theatre, preferably musicals. If I don't make it on-stage, I'm going to use my art degree to get a job back-stage working on the sets – a kind of back-up plan. I've got my own apartment in Cambridge courtesy of my parents who are willing to give me my own space. It's small, but all I need. And I've got a sister who's happily married with a baby on the way. Now, is that too much information for you?"**

**"No. Knock yourself out," he said, staring out the window.**

**"But you're not going to return the favor."**

**"That's right."**

**"Shit, you're prickly."**

**He flicked a look at her. "I thought I was a work of art."**

**"That too." She grinned. "Stop me if I ramble then."**

**He turned back to the window, watching the traffic, aware she was a better driver than most, and relaxed a little as she shared her opinions about Harvard as an institution and way of life. She was trying to draw him out using their studies as a common ground, but he ignored the bait. He was content to listen to the sound of her voice: sexy and low, stroking his senses and lulling him into a place where he imagined her lying underneath him. Soft and warm and naked.**

**He pushed himself upright in the seat and wound the window down. Where the hell had **_**that**_** come from? He was ahead of himself and down a path he hadn't expected.**

**They reached her apartment and it **_**was**_** small, the living room doubling as the bedroom, judging by the futon shoved unmade against the windowed wall. The kitchenette was dominated by a large fridge and larger table, with only enough room left over for a small stove and sink. He assumed the only inner door hid the bathroom.**

**"Take a couch," she said. "I'm going to have a quick shower and get us a beer. I can't stand this summer heat."**

**After his little fantasy in the car, he wanted to take the money and run, but it looked like he was going to have to play by her rules. For now. **

**Dropping his duffel bag near the door, Donovan moved around the apartment, picking up a discarded Vogue magazine from a coffee table and dropping it again beside a pile of textbooks. He browsed through them: 'Anatomy for Artists', 'The Human Figure', 'The Nude Figure: A Visual Reference for the Artist'. His mouth twisted. At least she was researching her assignment. He checked the library card inside the one on top. Sixteen days overdue. She wasn't an organized student and would be getting a notice soon.**

**He looked up. The television near the coffee table was large and expensive-looking. A present from the generous parents? Good luck to her enjoying the time to watch it; a luxury he didn't have. He wondered what she liked to watch. **

**Scanning the room, Donovan found a collection of photos on the window-sill. Her parents, he assumed, and a smiling man with a woman attached to his arm. He couldn't see much family resemblance, but guessed it was her sister and brother-in-law. Loving parents and a happy new family. Something he couldn't relate to. **

**There was a coolness on Donovan's shoulder and he swung around sharply, instinct throwing him into a low stance, arms raised to protect his body.**

**"Settle down, Frank." Now in a tank top and cut-off denim shorts that accentuated her lean figure and long limbs, Mercury held up a sweating can of beer. "It's only a drink." She frowned. "What is it?"**

**"Nothing."**

**"You don't look like it was 'nothing'. You look like you thought I was going to do something to you that you didn't want me to."**

**"Forget it." He shut down his bitterness and straightened self-consciously.**

**Popping the top of the can, she tilted her head to drink from it. He made to move away, but she stopped his escape with a light hand on his arm, then reached up to touch her wet lips to his. They were cool and tangy from the ale. **

**He froze at the unexpected gesture. "I expect cash for today's work," he said against her mouth.**

**"You'll get your money." She handed him the unopened can and propped herself against the TV, watching him as he pulled the ring tab and took a long drink.**

**She tipped her head to the side. "You're very sexy, Frank."**

**"What happened to too thin, hair too long and unsuitable beard?"**

**"That's from an artist's point of view. But from a woman's point of view…" She reached out and played with a lock of his hair. "What would you do if I kissed you? **_**Really**_** kissed you."**

**"I'd wonder why and what's in it for both of us."**

**She dropped her hand. "Oooo, so cynical. Lighten up, Frank. Life's too short for psychoanalyzing two people attracted to each other."**

**"Is that what we are?" He took another swallow of the beer, pretending a detachment to the conversation he didn't really feel.**

**"You tell me." She reached out, smoothing her hand behind his neck, exerting a gentle pressure. **

**He resisted.**

**"You're going to try and prove me wrong?" She tilted her chin and smiled with a confidence he itched to deflate.**

**"I think of it as proving I'm right," he said.**

**"Man, you're a tough nut."**

**He didn't feel tough. He wanted to know what it was like to have her body pressing against his, but he wasn't buying into her little temptation act. It was high time he turned the tables on her.**

**Donovan finished off his drink, then held out the empty. "Thanks." **

**She took it from him, but he didn't let go, leaning into her and sweeping her around until her back was to the wall and her body captured by his. He lowered his mouth onto hers slowly, fleetingly... once, twice and the third stayed, locked and explored. The beer cans fell from her hands; her half-full one splashing onto his ankle, but it wasn't the cold liquid that sobered him up. It was the simultaneous bolt of adrenaline to his head and groin that made him pull back too soon. As unexpected as it was irrepressible.**

**"Don't stop–" **

**"Who's right?" he mumbled.**

**She ran a finger along his bottom lip. "There're no losers in a good relationship."**

**He frowned. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, Mercury?"**

**"Stop being so touchy." She pushed him from her but didn't turn away. "Where'd you get all this emotional baggage?"**

**"Today? Hanging around you. And what about you? Cold and bitchy all afternoon and now this little seductress act." **

**"Maybe you bring out the best and the worst in me. I have **_**never**_** produced work as good as I did today."**

**"But what's **_**this**_** all about?" He extended his arms to the side. "Why am I here?"**

**"I... I don't know. I don't quite understand it myself." She sighed, her fingers running down his jaw. "While I was sketching you, I got in touch with you – your body and soul. I had all afternoon to know you, to get inside your skin – to see your sinews and muscles and watch their effect on the lines of your body." She laughed. "That's the artist talking again."**

**"And the woman?" He was curious for more. **

**"You wove a spell around me, strong and sure and, I fear, unbreakable." She leaned up into him and pressed her lips to his mouth again. "I'm not going to fight it, Frank. Why should you?"**

**"Why?" He weakened as her lips moved against his, gently asking for more, and needing more willpower than he expected, he pulled away. "Because I don't do games, Mercury." This was crazy. It was more than crazy. It was pushing him down a path he didn't recognize.**

**"No games, Frank." She walked around him to the futon. Her back to him, she pulled the tank top over her head and undid the button on her cut-offs. Sliding the denim from her body, she gracefully knelt down on the bed, completely nude. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her layered hair sliding over her back. **

**"Come on then, Frank. Take control."**

**She was waiting for his next move. He could back off, play safe and leave her apartment now, or accept what she was offering, explore their fledgling relationship and take it somewhere. It would be a first for him. **

**Donovan's chest tightened with an old remembered fear. "No."**

**Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened in shock. "My God! I've cheapened myself for the lowest form of scum and didn't even realize it till now."**

**"I'm flattered but–" She was right. Rejection of this sort was cruel, but he didn't want her submission.**

**"Get out! Get your bag and get out."**

**"Look, I'm sorry I can't do this–" **

**"Forget it! I'll get it for you." Pushing herself from the bed, she strode over to the door and grabbed his bag. He was right behind her and she turned and swung it at his head.**

**He caught it neatly, but she followed it up with two flailing fists and a well-placed foot in his shin. Pain exploded in his leg as he lost his footing and they went down, legs tangled on the floor. Donovan rolled until he was on top and her wrists were pinned under his hands. **

**"You just don't know when to stop," he gritted. **

**"Then make me!"**

**He shook his head from side to side as it hit him. She knew exactly how to manipulate him, had known since the time they spent in the studio. She'd been doing it all afternoon and was doing it now.**

**"I don't think so."**

**"Coward!"**

**"It's not going to work, so you can stop right now."**

**"Then why am I naked underneath you? Why haven't you left yet?"**

**He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at the flawlessness of her skin beneath him. He was fully aware of the length of her under his body. Some devil inside him, maybe that need to be in control like she said, prompted him to push her further. "Maybe I want to make you try a little harder." He rolled onto his side and trailed a hand down her neck to a breast and let it lightly hover there. "How bad do you want me, Mercury?"**

**"You've missed your chance, law-boy. You've blown it, well and good."**

**He smiled. "Now you're getting somewhere. Keep going." He let his hand rest more heavily on her breast, cupping it and kneading it gently.**

**She licked her lips, her brow furrowed in annoyance. "I thought you were different, playing hard to get because you're waiting for a relationship to mean something for you. But I was wrong. It's just fear. Fear of precisely that – a relationship that might last – and it terrifies you."**

**"And why would that be?" Her accuracy chilled him.**

**"You believe that the only way you're going to come out unscathed is if it's Frank and Frank alone. No Mrs... Frank on the horizon... ever! Damn! I don't even know your last name."**

**"Donovan."**

**"What?" **

**"Frank Donovan."**

**"How nice for you. And there's never going to **_**be**_** a Mrs Donovan, is there? What are you? A mommy's boy? No one can replace Mom–"**

**He ground his mouth onto hers. She couldn't know about his mother, but she had made the final push that sent him past reason. Whom he was punishing wasn't clear to him, but he knew that somewhere down the line both of them would suffer. **

**She accepted the brutal kiss, seemed to revel in it, and her hands on his body encouraged him for more. As he tore the shirt off his back and stripped himself of his jeans, he knew something else. **

**Right now, neither of them cared.**

_**Chapter Three**_

**Donovan woke to the smell of food cooking and it smelt good. He rolled over and looked for a clock in her apartment, finding one on the wall above the television. Close on 7:50. If he didn't get moving, he was going to be late for his first class. He scoured the floor for his clothes but found them neatly folded on the couch. She wasn't so disorganized after all. **

**While dressing, he watched her tending the stove, humming that song from yesterday, the one he knew but couldn't place. Walking over to the table, he sat down, searching for something to say. He wasn't good with morning afters. He usually left before dawn, using the walk home to convince himself it was all he needed in social interaction. She turned her head to give him a shy "Good morning" and then concentrated back on what she was doing.**

**In the absence of a hair brush, Frank smoothed his hands through his hair. "What's the name of that song?"**

**She turned back to him, smiling. "It's 'Dreams' by Grace Slick. It's a bit hedonistic, but catchy. I like all of her work, even though she's heavy into the dark side."**

**Opening the fridge beside her, she took out an already poured glass of orange juice, and handed it to him. His mouth was parched from his deep sleep and he drank it greedily. She slid the large omelet she had been priming onto a plate already laden with tomatoes, capsicum and mushrooms and passed it over. Pulling out a drawer, she selected some silverware and handed that to him as well. This time she wouldn't let go, and slid her other hand up his arm as he pulled. Threading her fingers into his hair, she straddled his lap while pulling his head to her, fastening her mouth onto his and taking his tongue in deeply, thoroughly kissing him before pulling back. He was breathless when she finished and something tentative but basal stirred within him.**

**"Shit!" she said. "I didn't dream you, did I?"**

**"You say 'shit' too much." Donovan tried to make light of how she was affecting him.**

**"I do, don't I?"**

**He was unsure how to react to her ease with their new status. His primary thought was to get out of there as fast as he could, without really knowing from what he was running. "Are you going to get off my lap or am I going to eat through you?" he asked, still trying to joke his way out.**

**"Hmm, I'm tempted to let you eat **_**off**_** me." She rested her head on his shoulder and lipped his neck, leaving a cooling moist trail with her tongue. "Last night was–"**

**"Shouldn't have happened," he finished.**

**"You don't mean that. If you did, you wouldn't still be here." She pushed off his lap and returned to the stove, her back discouraging an argument. Adding more egg mixture to the pan, she began the song again, this time with the words. **

**"I... believe in magic... and I believe in dreams..." **

**She stopped and turned around. "I don't care what you say. Whatever happened last night was magical. Like nothing I've ever felt before."**

**"Don't do this."**

**"What Frank?"**

**"Don't delude yourself that this can continue."**

**She threw her head back and took a deep breath. "Give me one good reason why not." She went back to the pan, viciously prodding the egg with the spatula.**

**"We both know what happened. You played with my head until you got the reaction you wanted, and now you're not prepared to face the reality."**

**"What reality is that, Frank? Eat your omelet. If you don't eat it, it will go cold. That's the reality."**

**"Mercury–"**

**"I don't know why you're calling me that! It's not my name."**

**"Maybe not, but it fits you."**

**"Look!" She abandoned the pan and swung round to face him. "**_**You**_** think this is wrong. I don't. That's another reality. But, whatever conclusion you come to, you're going to help me finish my portrait. Okay?"**

**He knew he should say no. No way. But his breath caught as he looked at her fresh beauty, remembering the yielding softness of her under him and Donovan found himself nodding instead. "Okay."**

**"Good, now finish your egg or we'll be late for class."**

**There was another reality; one she had failed to mention. Hours before he was due to meet her at the studio for the second portrait sitting, he wanted to be with her again. It never happened to him before, but now he found himself unable to concentrate in class and watching the lecture room clocks for the hours to tick over. As he entered the Arts building and made his way to the studio, he realized he was almost running, and held himself back deliberately, self-conscious with his eagerness.**

**"Hi Frank!"**

**He turned to see Jen push herself off one of the benches that lined the corridor. Cheryl and Mandy were with her, smiling and waving.**

_**What the hell did they want? **_**"Girls." He stopped and inclined his head, impatience chafing him. "What are you doing here?"**

**"We thought we'd sit in," Jen said. "You know, watch you two at work."**

**He scowled. Just when he thought he'd broken away from an existence manipulated by others, life was ganging up on him again. "Did Mercury put you up to this?"**

**"Mercury?" Then realization dawned on Jen's face. "Is that your nickname for our budding painter? Well, I have to admit she's like that. Up one minute, down the next. Must be the artistic temperament. No, **_**Mercury**_** didn't put us up to it, but I bet she won't mind us watching over her shoulder."**

**"I mind."**

**"Oh, but Frank, we're all friends here."**

**"You're not my friends, you're hers."**

**"What if we match your sitting fee?" Cheryl asked. "Then you'd be getting paid twice for the same effort." **

**"I don't think so." He walked on, wondering what it was about him that screamed 'For Sale' at these women.**

**"Why don't we go and ask... **_**Mercury?**_**" Mandy giggled, catching up behind him.**

**"Let's do that," Frank agreed, opening the studio door and waving them in.**

**She wasn't at her easel today, but standing at the table mixing paint onto a palette. She didn't look up, absorbed in her toning. "I didn't think you'd come after this morning's little disagreement. I know you regret last night, but–"**

**"We've got company," he interrupted. **

**She looked up then, and her mouth widened in surprise. "Guys, what are you doing here? Frank... surely you didn't...?"**

**"No, I didn't."**

**"Aw, come on, surely you don't mind if we stay and watch," Cheryl pleaded. **

**"Yeah, we could help you," Mandy said.**

**Jen giggled. "Like... undress him."**

**Frank stood with his hands on his hips, waiting to see what Mercury would do. If she didn't throw them out, he would take great pleasure in doing it himself, but he wanted to see her reaction first.**

**Mercury's brows locked and her mouth thinned. "I don't think so. In fact, I know so." She dropped the brush she'd been swirling over the palette, wiped her hands down her t-shirt and strode toward them. "Out! The three of you, get out." She jabbed her arm toward the doorway. "Where do you get off treating him like that?" She followed up the imperious order by putting herself between Donovan and the women. **

**He smiled in satisfaction. "There's the door, ladies." Donovan stepped from behind Mercury and held the door open for them.**

**"You're both killjoys," Jen grumbled. "But, at the very least, I warn you, I am going to find out what happened last night." **

**"Go!" Mercury ordered, but she grinned to soften the command and followed it up with a conspiratorial whisper. **_**"I'll call you later."**_

**She rounded on him as he closed the door on their retreating backs. "You could have done that yourself."**

**"I know, but I wanted to see what you would do."**

**"This was a test?" She folded her arms and studied him. "I can't make up my mind whether you're the most uptight man in the world or the most insecure. Now, be honest. Wanted to, or needed to?"**

**"Still psychoanalyzing me?"**

**"Someone's got to help you see your shortfalls."**

**He walked toward the dais where he had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon. "You've been doing that since I met you." He turned his head to look at her. "Are you ready for me?"**

**"Hmmm, always," she purred.**

**He raised a brow.**

**"Yes, Frank, I'm ready. The paint's ready. Let's go."**

**He kept his back to her as he took off his shirt and jeans, then settled onto the chair. In the light of what they shared last night and how many times they did it, he didn't feel the need to drape his shirt over the back of the chair this time. **

**"You're not really going to call them later, are you?" he asked, letting her know he heard her whisper to the girls.**

**"You don't know women very well, do you Frank." She smiled, and went back to her palette, adding more paint and humming a new tune. **

**He didn't bother asking her the name of this one. Roberta Flack's 'First Time Ever I Saw His Face' – a chick song, but he knew it because one of his previous girlfriends liked it. Was Mercury now his current? He didn't know. She seemed to want to stake a claim, but he knew from experience that as soon as that happened, he pulled back and shut the relationship down.**

**"Okay, stud, let's take a look at you." She moved to the canvas, palette and brush in hand, and studied him. Then sighed. "This is ridiculous."**

**"What?"**

**"You. Sitting there."**

**He frowned. "You've got another problem with me?"**

**"No problem with you. Problem with me. Standing here." She put her palette on the floor near the easel and walked over to him. Bending down, she wrapped her arms around his back and kissed him, breathing him in deeply.**

**Opening his mouth to her, his hands strayed to her hair and bound it around his fingers. He'd waited all day to do this. Rising from the chair, he swung one leg over and sat down with his back against its frame and pulled her onto his lap, her legs astride. Folding her body into him, he pushed his hands up underneath her t-shirt. **

**He would sort out their relationship, for what it was, later. Tonight. But right now, he wanted to do something he hadn't allowed himself since he left home four years ago. He was going to give in to something more powerful.**

**Taking her mouth again, he kissed her deeply, hungrily, embracing what drove him to forget caution when with her. Her hands slid across his back, nails digging and he shivered. His body was straining for hers but he wasn't sure what he could do about it. **

**"The door?" he rasped.**

**"Don't worry, I locked it," she assured him, sighing into his ear.**

**He groaned and pulled back to push her t-shirt up and over her head. **

**He didn't remember seeing a key, but he didn't care.**

**"Here's your rubber."**

**She had her jeans in her hands and she winked as she pulled the red hair band from yesterday, out of a pocket. He flashed a look at her as he threaded his fingers through his hair, tousled and knotted from their activity on the dais, then took the offered band. Making himself comfortable as best he could on the hard chair, Donovan prepped himself for the position he'd held in yesterday's pose and watched her pull her t-shirt back over her head.**

**She was so comfortable with him, and was able to make it easy for him to be with her. It was more than sex already; today it had been touching and smiling, tasting and breathing, exploring where the physical opened up the emotional and each fed on the other. But he couldn't prevent himself from looking for repercussions, for pitfalls – cause and effect. He'd been doing it for most of his life. **

**"Are you protected?" he asked.**

**She laughed, pulling on her jeans. "It's a bit late for that, Frank." **

**"**_**Are**_** you?"**

**"I dusted off the diaphragm last night, if that's what you mean. But if I hadn't...?"**

**"Then I would be at fault. It was my responsibility–"**

**She had her jeans on but her hand froze on the zipper. "Well, **_**that's**_** a first. Don't worry about it, I'm protected," she said, and buttoned her jeans. "For a guy who worries about making mistakes, you're in the habit of repeating them." She smiled at his scowl and walked back to her easel, combing her hair with her fingers as she went. "Hey, don't worry about it. Now where was I?"**

**She smoothed a finger down her charcoal sketch, tracing a line he couldn't see. "You have the most wonderfully defined sinews, Frank. I only hope I can reproduce their quality with the oils. I hope I'm good enough." She looked up. "Stop scowling! Is this the 'it shouldn't have happened' trip again? Get over it. We're linked, you and I. I don't know how or why, but I feel it."**

**"It's not that simple." His life never was.**

**"It can be if you let it. But if that scares you–"**

**"It doesn't." He didn't want to admit to his fear. "But it isn't so easy for me."**

**She smiled. "I realize that, which is why I'm not taking all your 'wall building' personally. I'll just keep knockin' 'em down as I go."**

**"Perhaps we should get on with it." He waved a hand at her easel. **

**"It?"**

**"The painting."**

**"And us?"**

**"We'll see." He was sounding like a jerk, but he couldn't help it. He was wary; of what was happening, of what he was feeling, of how important she might become and what that would mean. **

**All unknowns to him.**

_**Chapter Four**_

**Donovan gave up fighting their attraction that evening when she brought him home to her apartment again. He couldn't continue denying his need of her in one breath and bedding her in the next. He wanted to be with her, but also recognized that this wasn't one of his one-night stands and it was new territory for him.**

**As they lay on the futon bed, her sleeping form draped over him, he tried to imagine a future with her in it. As a lawyer his hours would be long, his workload time-consuming. Should Mercury achieve a career on the stage as she planned, she would be rehearsing by day and performing by night. He didn't see their crossing paths with any great accuracy or regularity.**

**But he didn't want to turn away now. Twenty-four hours after arguing his case to the contrary, he decided to give into the challenge of being with her. **

**Donovan continued to model for the portrait until it was finished, usually ending with the two of them on the floor of the dais, naked. He convinced her it was the best way to get his circulation moving again after the hours of inactivity on the chair. **

**He spent all of his free time with her which, considering he still had to model and tend bar to pay for his college fees, meant only a few hours a night, and usually in her apartment. He kept his own apartment, but spent most of the time in hers. Even though giving up his lease would have meant he didn't have to work as hard, he refused to relinquish his independence. He used his place only when she visited her parents on weekends and holidays, refusing to come with her. Not 'meeting the folks' was one argument she couldn't win with him, his seeing it as another surrendering of his destiny to her.**

**But she taught him to trust again. It came slowly and awkwardly but her own up-front honesty and confidence gradually earned his respect and belief that she would never abuse him. She accepted that he didn't want to talk about his family, letting him know that she would listen when he was ready. But it never happened.**

**She seemed content that he considered their existence as a couple was not to go to the next level. He had no idea if what he felt for her was love, and was too grateful a declaration wasn't expected from him, to consider how she felt. He was simply prepared to let sleeping dogs lie.**

**Until the FBI arrived three months later.**

**Donovan felt Mercury approach him from behind, as he gazed out of the only window her apartment boasted. It was early, the sky starting to lighten with a pale moon striving to pierce the city smog. Her arms circled him from behind and she pressed her face against his back.**

**"Have you slept tonight?" she asked, her voice muffled by his skin.**

**"No." By not turning around, he didn't have to face her with his decision.**

**"I've been watching you for a while, and each time I've woken, you've been there. I taught you to hold a pose too well. Are your exams putting the begeesus into you?"**

**He didn't answer, his eyes following the path of an early-rising bird as it swooped from the roof above.**

**"Frank, what's wrong?" Her voice vibrated with fear.**

**"I have to leave." The four words capped information that he couldn't share. Information they assured him was classified. The rumor they heard about Federal Agents in the University investigating illegal drug handling had everyone miles from the mark. Instead, they were recruiting, and for their own reasons they wanted him.**

**"What? Now? It's still dark."**

**"I have to leave college."**

**"You're dropping out?"**

**He was doing more than dropping out. He'd been offered the chance to help cleanse society; to neutralize the medusa as it grew rather than chop off a head one at a time in court. "I'm leaving college. Cambridge. I'm leaving today."**

**He turned then, her hands releasing him to hover protectively near her face. "No!" she cried. **

**"We both knew this would happen eventually," he said. **_**I did, I just lulled myself into ignoring it**_**.**

**"We? **_**We!**_** How dare you link me to your fright and flight plan. What is this? Why?"**

**"Because it's time to move on. For both of us." **_**Because if I stay, I'll have to live two lives that can't meld.**_

**"You're doing it again." Even in the semi-light, he could see her fear broiling in the anger in her eyes. "Including me in something you decided all by yourself." **

**He stepped around her, grabbing his shirt from the couch, and slipped it on. Goodbyes were hell. He was never any good at them, and this one was the worst. He never allowed himself to get so immersed in a relationship – in a woman. Picking up his duffel bag from beside the sofa, he headed for the door.**

**"Wait! Frank!" She grabbed his arm as he opened it. "You still haven't told me why." **

**He stopped. Tears were running down her face, but he hardened himself against the sight, his throat tight and thick with grief. He had the advantage over her. He'd spent the last thirty-six hours going through the stages she would now – confusion, hurt, loss – eventually ending in acceptance. Trailing his fingers down her cheek, he bent to kiss her softly on her mouth. "I can't do this." **

**And walked out the door.**

**"Can't do what!" she cried at his retreating back. "Leave? You just did, you bastard. Frank!"**

**His heart labored with the effort to keep going.**

**"I love you!" she cried.**

**He faltered, but didn't stop. **

_**Chapter Five**_

**For the next ten years Donovan's career within the FBI went from strength to strength. His singularity and responsiveness to his training fast-tracked him through the internal divisions while the Foreign Affairs assignments guaranteed that he worked for and against the most ruthless people that humanity could generate. He learned a lot from them, but his knack of reading perps and situations and playing into that knowledge made him perfect for CNU's Kidnap and Ransom division and he spent the last two years with them establishing an impressive track record.**

**His work became a way of life and he grew even more adept at avoiding personal entanglements, living in and out of short relationships that never went anywhere, more by circumstance – workload and temporary assignments overseas – than design. **

**He dated, usually professional women that he met in the course of his work and Marcie Haynes was no exception. Based in DC, Donovan was liaison with the New York Field Office after their McIntyre Department Store fraud investigation turned into a siege incident. As a lawyer, Marcie was handling the legal aftermath aided by the New York Agent in charge, Rian Banner, with Donovan advising. Donovan and Marcie built a rapport during the court case, and he accepted her invitation to use tickets she received from the director of the latest Broadway musical. **

**Settling into the theatre seats, Marcie pointed out the director, John Kremzow, who hovered in the orchestra pit. She explained he was a personal friend, and while he wasn't new to Broadway, his leads were, and one in particular was already making herself known on the circuit, as both an actress and playwright.**

**"She wrote the production herself," Marcie said. "John doesn't usually take on new blood, but he was impressed with her work and convinced his producers to take a gamble on her. It was a good move. It's been a sell-out."**

**"She's an overnight success?" Donovan asked.**

**"Far from it. Her previous plays have done small-time stuff on the lesser circuit, but her latest, "Magical Dreams", impressed him enough to bring her out."**

**Donovan unbuttoned his coat and relaxed into the overture from the orchestra. Closing his eyes, he let his mind go into neutral. He didn't allow it often – staying alert was another way of life for him – but the music was lyrical and bright, lulling the audience into a place that was busy and happy.**

**The music died down as the players entered the stage with a burst of conversation and ribaldry to draw the audience into their artificial world – that of the circus troupe, finishing their last show of the evening and unwinding in the local tavern. **

**Opening his eyes to view the action, Donovan saw his Mercury walk across the stage and back into his life after ten years. **

**His breathing shallowed and almost stopped as he gripped the armrests on the seats. Mercury played a barmaid, dressed in tight jeans and a shirt tied in a knot under her breasts, threading her way through the tables talking to the circus performers. She looked much as she had when they were together at college. Donovan's mouth went dry, his neck and shoulders painfully tensing.**

**"Frank, what is it?" Marcie asked, concerned. She had been lightly holding his arm and must have felt the sudden tension in his muscles.**

**"Nothing." He made a concerted effort to relax again, but his heart was racing. The years had barely made a mark on Mercury. Donovan's eyes followed her every movement and she looked as good as she had when she debuted in her college production, when he joined in the audience encore and then spirited her away backstage to make love to her amongst the discarded backdrops. **

**He could barely concentrate, the story unfolding for him in staccato flashes of scenes. The barmaid and the star trapeze artist were interacting in a way that suggested they knew each other well, but the man was aloof toward her until the tavern closed. Only when his fellow performers left in one direction did he take the barmaid in the other, confirming an intimacy between the two. As the scenes evolved, the audience learned that the relationship was one-sided. The barmaid had given her heart to her lover, but the trapeze artist was abusing that love. Their duet together was her chiding him for his fear of commitment and his demanding his independence. By the end of the first Act, the barmaid forced his hand and joined the circus troupe when they left town. She achieved her wish but the audience was left with the feeling that it was a tenuous victory.**

**When the lights rose on Intermission, Marcie leaned into Donovan, a smile on her face. "I don't suppose you noticed that actor playing the trapeze artist looked a lot like you?"**

**"No." He had been too intent on Mercury.**

**"I know he had long hair, but it was pulled back in a ponytail most of the time, and you don't have a full beard, but there was something about his face... and he's got your lean build and coloring."**

**Donovan had barely noticed the actor but the dialogue between the two main characters had struck a familiar and uncomfortable chord. He remembered the night he left Mercury – the grief he held close, never allowing it to surface – and then the months of guilt afterward. **

**"It's so sad when you meet people who are afraid to love," Marcie said. "It not only destroys one life, but two." She sighed. "Shall we take a walk?"**

**Donovan didn't care whether they did or didn't, but stood and preceded her out, easier to do the expected than explain why he'd prefer to leave the theatre and not come back.**

**He bought glasses of wine for them and they stood apart from the other patrons as Marcie chatted about the play. He must have answered, but he wasn't retaining any of it. His eyes scoured the walls for production posters but none featured Mercury. They were replicas of circus posters and looked to be prints of a painting. He abruptly left Marcie to take a closer look.**

**"Frank?"**

**It **_**was**_** a print with several scenes overlapping each other – a circus tent, hitched trucks and caravans, trapezes swinging from the Big Top's center suspending brightly-costumed performers. At the back of the circus ring were two figures and Donovan hunched closer to study them. There she was, his Mercury, in the arms of the trapeze artist, only it wasn't a painting of the actor playing the part. Donovan recognized himself ten years ago when he wore the full beard and ponytail. He had his hand lightly against her cheek and his head bent in readiness for a tender kiss. It could have been a snapshot of the last time he kissed her before walking out of her life.**

**"Frank?" Marcie's hand was on his arm, and he reacted violently, swinging around and throwing his elbows up to ward her off.**

**"Geesus, Frank! Take it easy."**

**"I'm sorry. You startled me."**

**"I realize that, but I didn't know you scared so easily."**

**"I don't."**

**"What are you looking at?" Marcie leaned in closer. "Very nice. Oh, look, the artist's name is in the bottom corner." She squinted at the poster. "Mercury Aldair. A very talented lady – actress, playwright **_**and**_** painter." **

**"Come, we should go," Donovan urged, steering her away. He didn't want her looking closer and finding his likeness on it, necessitating explanations he had no intention of giving. **

**The curtain rose on the Second Act and Donovan mentally braced himself. He had no idea how the musical would evolve but the first half had hit too close to home. And then there was the evidence on the painting that this play was some sort of pilgrimage or cleansing for her.**

**Act Two didn't get better. **

**The barmaid, now a fixed item in the trapeze artist's caravan, soon learned her new life wasn't what she hoped. The artist virtually ignored her until she pressed the issue, only to have him complain she made unrealistic demands on him. The climax of their affair occurred when the artist fell from his trapeze during a practice session and blamed her for his lack of concentration. Their relationship deteriorated until, in the final scene, he suggested she move out of his caravan and return to her previous life. Devastated, the barmaid left him, walking slowly across the stage, stopping before disappearing offstage, to sing the finale. **

**It was powerful and damning of the trapeze artist's callousness. "Though you build a wall around you," Mercury sang, and the audience was brought to their feet by the delivery of her last line, sung with a resonance that chilled him with its depth of pain-wracked feeling.**

**"I... believe in magic, and I still believe... in dreams."**

**All applauded.**

**Except Donovan.**

**He couldn't move. It was that song again. He hadn't heard it for years. Grace Slick's 'Dreams'. **

**"Frank?" Marcie leaned into his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "It's over. Everyone is leaving. Did you enjoy it?"**

**He still didn't move.**

**"Are you all right?"**

**He took a shallow breath. "Yes. What did you say?"**

**"Did you enjoy the production?"**

**"Yes," he said, coming back to the present. "I did." It was a lie. His chest was tight with guilt, combined with shock that she had transmitted their history into an entertainment medium. Even the knowledge that he deserved it, didn't lessen his resentment.**

**Marcie frowned, not quite convinced. "Perhaps we can go backstage then. I'd like to congratulate John."**

**"No!"**

**She was startled by his vehemence, but he couldn't care. **

**"He's a personal friend, Frank. I'd like to say hello."**

**"No." If he could come up with a valid argument, he would have turned on his heel and dragged her out of there. He rose ready to leave but she put a hand on his arm in appeal.**

**"Frank, please. Something's wrong. Tell me." **

**He really was a bastard. He was denying Marcie simply because he was a coward. Afraid to see Mercury face-to-face, afraid to have the feelings churning within him, erupt again. "I'm sorry," he said. "Of course we can."**

**She took him backstage and knocked on one of the doors at the rear of the theatre. When the door opened, Donovan took a deep breath and had the room scanned before both feet crossed the threshold. He breathed again when he didn't see her, but wondered how long the reprieve would last.**

**"Marcie!" Kremzow swept toward them. He and Marcie embraced, then Kremzow extended a hand to Donovan as she introduced them. "Welcome, both of you. Come and have a glass of champagne and toast another packed house." He pushed past the performers already drinking in small groups, to a table lined with bottles of wine, liquor and glasses. "Hey, everyone, this is Marcie Haynes and her friend, Frank Donovan. Someone get them a drink."**

**Donovan accepted a glass of wine from a woman pouring champagne flutes and turned back to Kremzow. "Congratulations on your production. It was... interesting." He should have done better and the director's frown reflected that.**

**"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr Donovan. Most people react a little more emotionally to it than expressing interest."**

**"Frank's feeling a little off tonight," Marcie interrupted. "We loved it. Your new star is bound to be a success for you."**

**"Excuse me." A hand on the director's shoulder pushed him out of the way and another hand arced through the air and impacted on the left side of Donovan's face. Head snapping to the right, sinews crunched on bone in his neck as he fought the urge to defend himself. His teeth ground together as the slap stung, then burned into his jaw. The instinct to retaliate was blunted only by his expecting this **** the confrontation, if not the assault. Not since he'd felt Ana Diaspora's punch had he received such force behind a woman's arm.**

**"You bastard!" Mercury had heard his name or recognized him even with the shorter hair and less obvious beard. It didn't matter how. He'd failed to see her in the crowd but she hadn't missed him. **

**Emotions carefully compacted, he straightened his neck and glared at her, bottom lip thrust forward from a sore and tightened jaw. "I recall they were the last words you ever said to me," he said.**

**"Actually, the last words I said were 'I love you', as you walked out of my life!"**

**Donovan was surprised that she wanted to make a scene in front of her co-workers. He wanted to take it somewhere else, but saying, 'excuse us, but we're just going to leave together now and hash out one of the cruelest break-ups of all time followed by a decade of silence' was out of the question. Maybe they **_**should**_** air it here. The public slapping had repressed his guilt and gut-wrenching need to touch her again, and replaced it with a desire to score a point for himself.**

**"I'm back," he said. **

**She swung her arm again, but this time he caught it and held. With the feel of her wrist in his hand, retaliation died and there was only the yearning to pull her closer and feel her against him, drawing out her anger and replacing it with something even more primal. **

**Most of Donovan's impulses never made it past his clinical brain, but this one manifested itself into deliberate action. He slid his hand down her arm, and behind her neck, pulling her to him and meeting her halfway. He lightly touched his lips to hers and in that caress, he asked for forgiveness, for forgetfulness, for the slate to be wiped clean. She didn't move. Despite their audience, he deepened the kiss because he couldn't not do so. **

**"Do you belong to anyone now?" he whispered against her mouth.**

**"Yes, I do." A whisper so wrenched from her, it sounded like a death rattle.**

**He straightened and let her go. Placing his drink carefully on the table, he walked to the door and was almost over the threshold before her next words arrested him.**

**"I belong to **_**me**_** now. Once I belonged to you, Frank. But you threw that away. **

**And it's been **_**hell**_**."**

_**Chapter Six**_

**The door shut onto stunned silence. **

**Mercury looked around the crowded room at faces alive with interest and speculation. Her co-workers, on-stage and off, had just witnessed something that would fuel gossip, deliciously bandied around, for days. A lot of them were already aloof with her. She heard the rumors, dubbing her Kremzow's latest shining star. They were waiting for her to flare and fall. And now she acted like some diva out of control. What happened? She couldn't even process it herself.**

**She looked down at her still-red palm.**

**Her hand hurt, her eyes were paper dry. Had it really been him? Of course it had! He acknowledged her, and remembered their last conversation. She knew it was her Frank by the way her stomach clenched when John called out his name in that hearty way he had when he was pleased with something. Tonight it was the evening's performance and the fact that Marcie Haynes came back stage to congratulate him. **

**Marcie Haynes, rising star in the legal circle. John liked to surround himself with success stories. He picked up Mercury's play thinking he would have it with her, but didn't realize yet he commissioned a one-hit wonder. Mercury tried her hand at several skills, only to win one Art Award … 'Nude on a Chair', a painting of Frank. Only one musical to hit the major league … 'Magical Dreams', inspired by her youthful association with Frank. **

**It all came back to Frank.**

**And there he had been. Ten years later. Standing toe to toe with her again.**

**And she slapped him.**

**He deserved it. He damned well deserved it.**

**She heard his name. Gone cold all over, as the loss, the aloneness, the sense of inadequacy that she hadn't seen his defection coming, hadn't been able to satisfy him, surged through her again. **

**Then she felt the coldness replaced by rising heat. Anger that he dared …dared… to come into her life again. Her anger drove her forward, her fists balled and teeth clenched. Anger swung her arm up and at his face and years of hurt impacted onto his jaw. She watched his head snap to the side and it felt good. She made him physically hurt, small compensation for the months of agony she suffered. Made him feel the public embarrassment akin to what she endured with her friends when he disappeared.**

**She called him a bastard. And he alluded to that night he left.**

**"I recall they were the last words you ever said to me," he said.**

**He'd forgotten. She never lost that last image of his walking down the hallway and her hopeless, hapless declaration of love, and all he remembered was her insult. **

**She wanted him to remember, if only to feel the guilt. "Actually, the last words I said were 'I love you', as you walked out of my life!"**

**She cringed. Had she really said that out loud and shared her humiliation with the whole room? **

**"I'm back," he said, the words salt in her wounds.**

**She quivered from rage at his cruelty and her hand swung again, but he caught it before she could make contact. Then, his gaze snaring and locking with hers, he caressed and kissed her. Her fury blunted her to his motivation, not letting her care why he did it. **

**"Do you belong to anyone now?" he whispered.**

**"Yes, I do." What had he been asking? Was she seeing someone? What did he expect? She needed to convince him that she learned from his defection. **

**And he shut down on her. He looked so... cold. Impenetrable. A void. Her void. Never filled.**

**He put down his drink and walked out and closed the door behind him. **

**Walked out on her twice.**

**Mercury blinked, her eyelids abrasive on dry eyes as she looked up again. Everyone in the room was looking at her. Her legs trembled and she folded her arms across her body as she heard them whispering, discussing what they had seen.**

**"Mercury!"**

**It was John. Protective, generous John who had done so much for her, but hadn't managed to fill the emptiness in her life. Not with his companionship, nor his promise of fame and fortune. She didn't believe in its permanency. Frank taught her that everything was transient, nothing certain.**

**"John... I can't... I have to..." **

**She turned toward him, her thoughts as incoherent as her words. He put his arms around her. The trembling in her legs spread throughout her body. She was so cold. **

**Frank was so cold. **

**John was warm. She absorbed his warmth, but it wasn't the fire that she felt with Frank a minute ago – the blaze of temper, the burn of his lips on hers, the flame licking through her nerves.**

**Hysteria bubbled, sending her thoughts into a kaleidoscope of memories. **

**His long black hair fanning her pillow. No, it's short and graying now. **

**Lips trailing ecstasy across her skin. His beard brushing her neck, cascading shivers down her spine. He's shaved it to a stubbled goatee. **

**Brown eyes gazing at her, liquid with desire. Eyes that are now cold and hardened with... **

**What? What had they seen? What sent him away from her? What shaped him into the calculating man that kissed her and then walked out on her again? **

**Why did she care?**

**Her knees buckled, her head spinning from recoil.**

**"Out of the way!" John ordered. "I'm taking her back to her dressing-room. Open the door." **

**The theatre crew scattered as he guided her out of the room and headed toward the other side of the building. She should be able to handle this. She had years of practice. Years of dodging relationships so this feeling would never reoccur. She buffered herself for so long, only to have it engulf her again.**

**And she had only been in contact with the man for mere minutes. She only looked at him. And slapped him. Felt his touch thrill her skin, his hand glide down her arm and caress her neck, his mouth close passionately on hers.**

**And she was back in the void.**

**Without knowing how she got there, she and John were in her dressing-room. John helped her onto the small couch, lowering himself beside her and patting her hand.**

**"It's okay, Mercury. He's gone."**

**"No, he's not," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "He's very much back. Back in my head." **

**"You don't have to worry about a thing," John soothed. "I won't let him anywhere near you again."**

**She stared at him, amazed. "Can you guarantee that? Can you honestly say the coincidence, fate, whatever, that brought him to the theatre and then back-stage tonight after all this time will just roll over and let this go away?"**

**That Frank was publicly slapped and will let me get away with it? **

**Judging by his look of calculation after the slap and the flash of rawness before he left, she wondered if he would let it rest. He was different. Ten years ago he had been unsure of his interaction with others and wary of their impacting his life. Today he seemed self-assured and bold ( that kiss! ) then walked away, uncaring, leaving her with a sense that it wasn't over. **

**That something reawakened. **

**She shivered and John put his arm around her shoulders.**

**"I'll look after you Mercury."**

**"John..." He was so very stable. Full of energy in his role as director, but a rock when you needed his ear for a problem. His blonde shaggy hair, kind eyes and lined face made her think of an old sheep-dog, loyal and true, comfortable to be around. She smiled, but it was a rueful one. "You want to protect me from him? Try if you will, but I'm so very very afraid."**

**John's hand tightened in hers. "Of what?"**

**"That you can't protect me from myself."**

**Mercury let herself into her apartment, closed the door, and leaned against it. Tilting her chin up, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths to stave off the tightness in her chest. **

**John wanted to drive her home, but she refused, taking a cab instead. He wanted more information from her, information that she wasn't prepared to give. Couldn't give for fear of breaking down. She still hadn't gotten herself together and had spent the journey home looking out the cab window at the downtown slideshow, fighting back the tears. Not again. Not any more. Not since she'd written 'Dreams' had she cried over Frank. Performing the play was her buffer, re-immersing herself each time in the drama and emerging stronger. But seeing him again had weakened her resistance.**

**She had to know how much damage had been done.**

**Pushing herself from the door, she headed into the second bedroom to the spare wardrobe. She scattered her winter clothes on their hangers as she reached into the back and pulled out a shrouded canvas. It didn't come easily, tangling itself with the coats and catching on the corners of the cupboard's interior. Gritting her teeth, she yanked at it, frustration turning to temper at its refusal to slide out. Nothing was ever easy. A final tug and it came away pulling three coats with it. Mercury threw them off with a yell and then straightened, panting. **

**Shit! Look what you do to yourself, girl. Get a grip!**

**She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then ran her hands slowly along the shrouded frame, pushing the sheet aside as she went, revealing the creams and browns she had used in the background to highlight his skin tones, the smooth yet ridged paint strokes that gave definition to his sinews, the midnight blue of the draped shirt that reflected off the black shine of his hair. She wasn't exaggerating that night ten years ago. The painting of Frank on the chair in the college studio was the best work she had ever done. She still hadn't been able to equal it. **

**Her breathing shallowed and the blood pulsed in her head. She ran her fingers down the painted jawline, across the pouting bottom lip as she lost the fight and the tears spilled. Her hand pulled back and balled into a fist against her open mouth while the sobs came, convulsing her body. Sliding to her knees on the carpet and still gripping the painting, she gave into the hopelessness of believing she was cured of wanting him. This is the last time you weep over him, she promised herself. The very last time.**

**"Damn you, Frank Donovan," she cried at the painting. "Damn you to hell!"**

**Chapter Seven**

**Mercury's phone was relentless, piercing her dead sleep. She rolled over and flung out an arm for the handset, managing to grab it after the third try.**

**"Ye...Yessss?"**

**"Good morning, Ms Aldair. This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. How was the performance last night?"**

**Mercury groaned. It ended in shit, she thought. "Fine, thank you." For the call? For being so cheerful on a Monday morning? Mercury didn't care. She hung up and rolled back to bury her face in the pillow.**

**Her head hurt, her eyes burned and she felt drained of all interest in the day. At least there was no performance tonight, her one night off. She could make today a day to start the rest of her life. Again. **

**Dragging herself up onto her elbows, she pushed the hair from her face. She felt like shit, and she bet she looked like it too, but she wasn't going to wallow in bed. She needed a shower and then a coffee and then to tackle the day. Avoiding the mirror on the way to the bathroom, she stumbled to the shower and turned on the water, leaning her aching head against the shower's cool glass surface.**

**Frank was back in town. **

**Last night she vented, this morning she was paying for it, and she had the sinking feeling she had been right when she said to John that Fate was at work here. If she did run into Frank again, she better be prepared. Mercury stepped under the shower. More than prepared. Sometimes it was better to be on the offence instead of the defence, and even though this wasn't a battle, she already felt like the vanquished.**

**Mercury stood still, head bent, letting the water run down her back. She considered the possibility that the circumstances which had brought Frank back-stage were a chance for justice. Tit for tat. His turn for a learning curve in personal relationships.**

**She lifted her head. Suddenly the pain was less intense as she contemplated showing him what it's like to have your life derailed by the actions of another. She hurried through her shower and dressed in a simple cream linen dress, then poured a coffee and took it into the study. Settling into her chair at the desk where she did her best creative work, she stared, unseeing, at the landscape prints on the wall, while she considered what form his retribution could take.**

**Her eyes focused suddenly and an idea slotted into her head. **

**The prints on the wall. **

**Grabbing the handset of the phone on her desk, she dialed her parents' number and sipped her coffee while the connection was made. Her mother answered. **

**"Mom? It's me! How are you?" Her voice had just the right amount of bright and breezy for a Monday morning, hiding her fragility.**

**"Well, if it isn't my big star," her mother said. "I'm fine. Never home, you know me. How's the play going?"**

**"Musical, Mom." Shitty musical, I wrote it about Frank. "And it's going great. How's Dad?"**

**"Still practicing his golf swing, though why he doesn't give up, I'll never know. He'll never master that ridiculous game. When are you coming to visit? You can chase your father around the links instead of me."**

**"Soon, Mom, soon. Meanwhile, I wonder if you can do me a favor?" Her mother knew about Frank, knew what she went through over him and so Mercury couldn't afford to ring any alarm bells. "Mom," she said carefully, "you know that print the Burlington Award Committee did of 'Nude on a Chair' for their next year's promotion?"**

**"Yesss, what about it? We haven't thrown it out if that's what you're worried about, although your father would like to." Mercury could hear the suspicion in her mother's voice already. She bit her lip. This was going to be harder than she thought.**

**"Yes, I know, it should still be in the garage where Dad hid it." Mercury laughed, dredging up normalcy to cover her sudden anxiety. "I wonder if you can ask him to dust if off for me." **

**"Why, dear? Why now?" **

**"Because I want to throw darts at it." She laughed again, then decided she might be overdoing it. "Just a little idea I have, Mom. No biggie." **

**"Sweetheart, are you going to rehash all of that? Now? After all this time? What's the point?" Suspicion had been replaced by disapproval.**

**"No, I'm not rehashing anything. That's over." I wish. "There's no point having it languishing in the garage. I could reuse the frame if nothing else." **

**"I'm not sure about this."**

**"Mom, don't worry. I'll probably throw it in the bin when I get it, but I wanted to check something." Thank goodness her mother didn't realize she couldn't bear to get rid of the original. "I'll send a courier to pick it up today." **

**"Well, dear, I can't stop you. It's your property. Now I'm wishing I let your father burn it."**

**Mercury sighed with relief. "You don't mean that, and thanks, Mom."**

**"I wish you'd tell me what this is about, dear. What that man did was unforgivable–"**

**"I know. I remember. This is just a painting, Mom." Mercury moved on quickly, staving off any arguments her mother might make. "How's Sis and Owen and the boys?"**

**"They're all fine, dear. It's you I'm worried about."**

**"I'm glad they're doing okay." She missed her sister and brother-in-law. Losing herself in their love and acceptance helped her get through Frank's rejection all those years ago. She felt tears brim again and took a deep breath. "Gotta go, Mom. Tell them I love them and you and Dad too."**

**Hanging up, she took a long swig of her coffee, getting herself under control again. Dammit! She was still shaky, teetering on the edge of losing it. Could she do this? **

**Before she changed her mind, she pulled out the phone book from a shelf behind her and looked for a courier. Her parents lived in Great Neck which was only about two hours drive, there and back. That gave Mercury time to organize the rest of her idea. She dialed the first company she found and gave them her parents' address, credit details and a description of the item to be collected.**

**Hanging up again, she dialed John's cell phone. Her other mother-hen. **

**"John, hi!"**

**"Mercury?" His voice sounded clear enough. She hadn't woken him. "Are you all right?"**

**"Good, you're awake. Yes, I'm all right." Guilty of more lies, she thought. **

**"Did you get some sleep?" he asked. "I was going to call to see how you were, but thought you might sleep in. Considering–"**

**"Yes, I slept." Eventually. "I suppose my little performance after the performance is hot gossip for the production crew?" It wasn't her fault that Frank came back-stage and entered her turf. But she had over-reacted. An embarrassed heat swept over her.**

**"Well, tongues will wag, love, but I told them that he left you because he couldn't compete with your career. That it was him or the stage. They understood that."**

**"You told them that?" She reeled in her thoughts to focus on what he had said. "That was nice of you, John, but I didn't have a career ten years ago for Frank to feel jealous of. I was in college still."**

**John tutted. "They won't figure that out, and if they do, who cares? You're the star. You don't have to worry about things like that. All stars have interesting histories, or if they don't, we get the agents to make 'em up for them." He laughed at his joke.**

**"They'll work it out, or some of them will. Don't say anything, John. It's best you don't." **

**"I'm just trying to help, Mercury."**

**She felt worse. He **_**did**_** have her best interests at heart, and some of his own, but she had to further her plan. "I know, John. Look, how can I contact Marcie **_**what's-her-name**_**?"**

**"Marcie Haynes?"**

**"Yes, the woman who was with Frank last night."**

**"What makes you think I****?"**

**"Don't act dumb, John. The whole theatre knows you were dating a lawyer, God forbid." **_**And I was sleeping with a law student, so I was no better. **_

**"I was **_**going **_**to say, what makes you think I want you contacting Marcie? What are you planning, Mercury?"**

**"I just want to talk to the woman." And somehow get to Frank.**

**"Now look here. When two women share a man, they never just want to talk to each other, believe me."**

**"We don't share a man." **_**I had him first!**_** She bit her lip to stifle an hysterical giggle. "John, I just want to contact her, all right?"**

**"Have you any idea what you're doing? What you could stir up?"**

**"Yes, I know what I'm doing and I'm not going to stir up anything." John was a lot harder to convince than her mother. "I want her phone number, that's all. You just said you wanted to help."**

**There was silence and she knew she had him. To refuse would seem churlish and unjustified. "I'm not going to be a party to this, Mercury. If you need her number, I'll tell you where she works **** you'd probably find that out yourself if you went digging **** but I'm not going to be hauled across the coals for giving you a personal and **_**unlisted**_** number. And if she comes after me, I'm going to deny everything. Okay?"**

**"Fine, fine. I understand. Where she works will do fine." **

**"She's an ADA at Queens County, Kew Gardens office but I have to say this again. Don't go stirring up trouble. You don't need it and judging by your shell-shocked appearance last night, it's not good for you."**

**"I know. Thanks John. I'll get some rest and be bright and bushy-tailed for tomorrow's performance, I promise. Bye!" She cut the connection on more protests from him, and flicked through the blue pages for the Kew Gardens' number. **

_**So, she's a prosecutor. Overworked and underpaid but not too busy to screw someone else's**___**.**

**"Shit!" she said aloud. She still thought of Frank as hers. What a fool! **

**While she waited to be connected with Marcie's office, Mercury looked at the clock on her desk. 10:32. The woman should be at work. She wondered what Frank was doing. **

**But Marcie proved to be her first snag. **

**Ms Haynes was in Court, her receptionist explained. No, you can't contact her there. No, she won't supply her cell phone number as Ms Haynes can't be disturbed.**

**Mercury thought hard. It was a long shot, but worth a try. "Does Frank Donovan work there?" This time the receptionist was a little more forthcoming.**

**"No, he doesn't, but he did escort Ms Haynes to the Courthouse this morning."**

**Mercury drummed her fingers against her chin, thinking. Change of plan, but it could be for the better. **

**"Can I leave a message for Ms Haynes?" the receptionist asked helpfully.**

**"No, don't bother, I'll see if I can catch up with her there later. Queens Criminal Court?" she guessed.**

**"That's right. If you want an appointment with Ms Haynes****"**

**"No, that's fine. If I miss her, I'll call back. Thank you, you've been very helpful."**

**Hanging up, Mercury pushed herself away from her desk and walked back to the kitchen for another coffee. She leaned against the sink, thinking. It was just a matter of waiting now. Waiting for the courier to arrive with the print and then waiting outside the Courthouse this afternoon. **

**Any little voice that might have said this was wrong, that she shouldn't be embarking upon this, was silenced when she straightened from the sink and walked to the spare bedroom. **

**She bit her lip as she gazed at the painting on the floor where she had abandoned it the night before. A shudder ran through her at the blatant sex appeal of the man, even when only a likeness of him. **

**"I loved you, you know," she said to the portrait. "I think you loved me too, which is why I still don't understand why you left me. Or the way you did it. You have no idea what you put me through, do you?"**

**The painting stared back at her, mute, the smoldering message in the eyes promising her ecstasy, not heartbreak.**

_**I'm sorry, Frank, but it's payback time. **_

_**Chapter Eight**_

**Casing the Courthouse steps at five p.m. was no picnic. There was a steady stream of lawyers, their clients and court personnel exiting the double main doors and she was earning more than a few interested looks while standing on the sidewalk, supporting a five foot tall shrouded frame. Marcie and Frank had to come out some time. All sessions were due to finish by now and she had been here since three, in case they finished early. The wait had been tedious, but she fuelled her resolve with several fantasies of how he would react. **

**Her patience paid off, her heart beating faster as she saw Frank coming down the steps. His hand was on Marcie's elbow and both carried suitcases. Suited and professional, they looked what they were – counselors at law – by necessity, hard at heart. One tall and dark, the other a foil for him with her petite blondeness. Mercury clenched her jaw. **

**He was probably one of those horrible ambulance-chasers. **

**She approached them, carrying the print awkwardly. Another man with them was talking, accompanied by a lot of animated gestures, and Frank and Marcie were both listening intently. **

**"Frank! Hi!" Mercury called brightly, drawing upon her acting skills. "Now that I know you're in town, I wanted to give you something. You earned it." The trio halted at her hail. Frank looked guarded, Marcie surprised, the other man stopped mid-conversation. "I would have rung you, Frank, but didn't quite know how to contact you, but John knew Marcie and..." Mercury let her voice trail off, leaving the others to work it out for themselves.**

**"You see I did win the Burlington Prize for this." She held the print a little higher. "You didn't hang around to find out..." She kept up the prattle in front of them, not giving them a chance to interrupt or dodge her. "... and I thought the least I could do was give you the print that they made to promote my win." Looking around, she was glad to see people slowing down in interest. The more the merrier. "So, here it is." She turned the print toward them and whipped the shroud from it, revealing the copy of 'Nude on a Chair'.**

**She watched the stunned looks on their faces with avid interest. **

**Marcie recovered quickly. "My word, Frank," she said, looking the print up and down, "I'm impressed." But she wasn't smiling.**

**Another briefcase-toting onlooker came up behind them and stopped, letting out a low whistle. "I'm seeing your advisor in a new light, Marcie," he said. "Not sure I can handle it all at once though."**

**"Can it, Eugene," Marcie said, and Mercury ignored the withering look she was now receiving from Frank's girlfriend.**

**"I'll do more than that," Eugene said. "I'll use it in my credibility argument. I can see it now... 'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you the prosecutor's FBI liaison in all his glory. How can you trust the word of an Agent who moonlights as a nude model?' What's **_**your**_** second job, Banner?" he asked the other man who accompanied them, then laughed and walked on.**

**Frank hadn't said anything, hadn't moved, and Mercury was disappointed with his being so unresponsive. There was a crowd gathering, interested in what had caught the attention of the group, but still Frank didn't try to cover the print or wrest it from her. Mercury stared at him, painting an ingénue smile on her face and waited to see what he would do. **_**But what did Eugene mean by 'FBI liaison'?**_** For the moment, Mercury dismissed the thought. **

**"Satisfied?" Frank asked at last.**

**She wasn't. She hadn't expected this calm acceptance of her 'gift' and she felt uncomfortable with her hollow victory. Letting the print go, she turned and walked away. She didn't hear it fall to the ground and she didn't turn back to see who had caught it. **

**If he called her name, she didn't hear.**

**She did what she came to do.**

_**Two days later ...**_

**Weaving his way through the sidewalk café tables, Donovan spotted Marcie toward the front, her table half in the warm morning sun. She was reading The New York Times and didn't acknowledge his approach. He hoped her mood was improved from the other evening. Explanations on Monday afternoon were impossible in a taxi shared with a five foot framed print and an interested cabbie. He hadn't felt like enlightening her either, too incensed to speak.**

**"Good morning," he said, taking the seat opposite. **

**"Frank."**

**No returned pleasantry, so this wasn't going to be easy.**

**He wasn't sure what was expected of him. His presence for the case wasn't required on Tuesday so he flew back to his D.C. office for the day, but he agreed to meet Marcie for breakfast this morning before they were due in Court, knowing that she would want to talk about it. One could argue it was none of her business, but in all fairness, Marcie had been subjected to two of Mercury's displays and she was entitled to some explanation, even though hashing it out with her was the last thing he felt like doing.**

**"Have you ordered?" he asked, accepting a menu from a waiter pouring his coffee.**

**Marcie folded her newspaper carefully and placed it beside her still full cup. "Not yet." She waved the waiter away and stirred her coffee with a spoon. **

**Donovan noticed she hadn't added sugar, and he assumed it was coffee poured earlier and was now cold. Marcie Haynes distracted? Watching her in action in Court, he knew it wasn't one of her weaknesses.**

**He waited. **

**She tossed him a look and then put down her spoon. "Sunday night you explained that you had a relationship with that woman and it ended badly." **

**Reaching for a cube of sugar, he concentrated on toying with it between his fingers. He wasn't asked a question, so he said nothing, but found it interesting that Mercury was assigned 'that woman' status.**

**"She's a little upset with you," Marcie continued. "That's understandable. But Monday, she publicly presents you with a nude portrait of yourself. That's not so understandable. In fact, it's a little bizarre."**

**If he could understand it himself, he would be happy to explain. He dropped the sugar into his cup. Coffee splashed, staining the white table cloth. **

**"Obviously, she's more than a little upset," Marcie said. "And now there's this." She tapped the newspaper.**

**"This?" Donovan braced himself and looked up. Marcie appeared calm but her mouth was pulled tight with the effort to remain composed. **

**"You obviously don't have friends who read the entertainment section of the newspaper or else your phone would have been hot this morning." **

**"I haven't seen the paper yet," he said, suspicion sharpening his voice.**

**She flicked him a look and opened up the newspaper, scanning several pages before she found what she was looking for. "Shall I read it to you?" Her voice was terse, the veneer cracking.**

**He inclined his head. **_**What now?**_

**"'Rising star and lyricist, Mercury Aldair, deviated from form by dedicating last night's performance of 'Magical Dreams' to Frank Donovan, who, quote, inspired the story many years ago and without whom it would never have been written, unquote. Efforts to identify a Frank or Francis Donovan from Ms Aldair's past have not yet produced any information on this mystery man.'" Marcie's emphasis on 'mystery' was pure sarcasm. "'When interviewed after the performance, Ms Aldair would only comment that, quote, Frank would prefer to remain in her background, unquote."**

**His jaw clenched on the effort not to swear out loud.**

**"I understood," said Marcie, refolding the paper, "that you didn't want a high profile. In fact, you instructed me to fend off any press interest in your role in my court case, and yet I read **_**this!**_**" She slapped the paper back onto the table. "It would seem we have a... problem, Frank."**

**Stirring his coffee slowly, he stared unseeing at the traffic and pedestrians that passed them, workers hurrying because they were late, everyone with an agenda. Mercury had an agenda and she wasn't going away. He zoned back in on Marcie's 'we' reference. She too sensed Mercury was up to something and feared its impact. Marcie didn't need anyone associated with her case, no matter how much in the background, involved in a public scandal.**

**"Why is she doing this?" Marcie asked sharply and he realized his silence wasn't reassuring her.**

**"Other than to annoy me? I have no idea." Although he concealed it outside the Courthouse on Monday, Mercury's ploy hit home. With ease of training, he hid his shocked reaction to her 'gift', steeled himself against Eugene's sarcasm and Marcie's disapproval, but inside he seethed. He caught the print when Mercury dropped it and felt like hurling it after her, but instead, hung on with a white-knuckled grip while he watched her walk away. **

**"I suggest you find out, then," Marcie said, drawing his attention back to her, "before it escalates. Banner and I are only half way through the McIntyre case, and although you're only advising, publicity like this can still muddy the waters."**

**"I intend to." His nod was stiff. "I'm sorry you're in the middle of this," he said, belatedly apologizing for her involvement. Marcie was playing with her napkin, folding it and refolding it. He hadn't managed to placate her, but he wasn't sure whether she was worried or angry.**

**"Where is it?" she asked.**

**"It?"**

**"The portrait."**

**"I still have it." It was stashed under the bed in his rented apartment. His first thought was to get rid of it, curbed by the fact that the frame was an expensive one. "What I'm going to do with it is uncertain. What I'd **_**like**_** to do with it is another matter." **

**Her lips pursed in annoyance. "You're not going to **_**keep**_** it?"**

**"I've no idea. Despite Mercury 'giving' it to me, it was a statement rather than a gesture. I'll probably destroy the print but get the frame back to her somehow." **

**"Don't hash around the issue, Frank. You're quite capable of returning it whenever you like."**

**He raised a brow, both hands gripping his coffee cup. "Meaning?"**

**"Meaning you're probably enjoying this... this attention. You've got this Broadway star throwing herself at you, trying to get back into your life. What a coup."**

**His eyes narrowed on her flustered face and he noticed her fingers were now drumming on the table. "Marcie, I think you're getting a little carried away here." He took a swig of coffee, dropping one hand onto his lap, clenching and unclenching it to diffuse his growing tension.**

**"Am I? Am I, Frank?" Her voice rose in temper, then she took a deep breath, restraining it. "What possessed you to pose for the portrait anyway?"**

**"That has no bearing on**** "**

**"Can you please just answer the question?"**

**He balled the hand under the table into a fist. This 'breakfast' was rapidly going downhill. They were sniping at each other, when it was Mercury who should have been on the firing block. "It was commissioned while I was paying my way through law school."**

**"You did modeling for a living?" Her face was a mixture of surprise and dismay.**

**He lifted his chin. He was always ready for this reaction. "I wasn't in a position to be fussy, as long as it paid."**

**"I supplemented my college tuition but I didn't****" She stopped just in time, but he finished for her.**

**"Sell yourself?"**

**"I was going to say 'debase' myself, but it's just as ugly. I'm sorry." Her eyes slid away from him. He couldn't decide whether it was because of what she admitted or where her imagination had taken her.**

**"I wasn't whoring, Marcie."**

**"I never said you were!" She tasted her coffee and grimaced. His early guess was correct. It was cold. She looked around for the waiter. "Let's order and discuss what we are going to do about this."**

**He caught the attention of the waiter and turned back to her. "We?"**

**"Well, I... I could help. If this turns into requiring a restraining order****"**

**"She's not exactly dangerous."**

**"I realize that, but she **_**is**_** a nuisance factor. And the law can do something with nuisances."**

**His mouth twitched at how Mercury might react to being labeled a 'nuisance', then caught himself. There was nothing remotely funny in the situation in which she had placed him. He guessed that was the plan****, which made him feel there was more to come. Marcie was right. He had to check this before it got out of hand.**

**"Let me talk to her first," he said.**

**"There's nothing wrong with my being there to help... as advising Counsel."**

**"I think Mercury will construe your presence as something altogether different."**

**"Meaning?" **

**"You don't think she'll perceive you as having a vested interest in the outcome?"**

**Her eyes went wide with feigned surprise. "Do I, Frank? I can't tell with you." **

**Whether she was piqued or genuinely confused, he deserved it, having opened the door. "Let's just get past this, Marcie." The waiter was hovering, and he placed an order of bacon, eggs and sausages while Marcie requested croissants.**

**While he waited for the meal, he finished his coffee, debating how best to tackle Mercury. Something bothered him. He was surprised at her lack of triumph on Monday. Instead of reveling in the embarrassing situation in which she put him, she seemed devastated – hadn't stayed around to gloat or rub it in. Hadn't even looked back when she walked away for a final assurance that he was humiliated.**

**It didn't matter. He still had to shut her down. **

_**Chapter Nine**_

**"I think you're making a mistake, Frank," Marcie said from her kitchen.**

**Donovan lowered himself onto the sofa and wearily rubbed his hands over his face. It was late and he was tired after a fruitless day of worrying about one woman, and then spending a restaurant dinner conciliating another. A dinner made even more difficult as he fended off any mention of Mercury. **

**"I don't have a choice," he said, only now indulging in her request to be updated with developments. "It's either see her after her performance, or not at all." **

**"That's what phones are for."**

**"I tried to contact her all day," he said, raising his voice over the sounds of her grinding coffee. "The home phone and cell phone were on a message service and she's made sure they don't put my calls through."**

**"I take it you have the means to find out where she lives, even if she's unlisted?"**

**He nodded even though she couldn't see him. "There was no answer at her door to the courier I sent around." **

**"It sounds like you've covered all the bases."**

**"But I still struck out." Mercury was in hiding and although he could have gate-crashed her evening performance, it was a measure too extreme to be kept low-key. **

**"But at the theatre, you are on **_**her**_** turf," Marcie said from the doorway and Donovan felt her disapproval from across the room. "You are surrounded by her people and theatre security. She could have you kicked out."**

**"I'm open to suggestions." He could hope she had a quick fix he hadn't tried yet.**

**"At least take me along with you."**

**"We've already discussed that." His nerves vibrated with tension at the thought of these two women going head to head. He knew who the meat in the sandwich would be.**

**"Frankly, I don't care whether she thinks I have a vested interest or not," Marcie said tartly. "She's starting to bug me. And I still think you're making a mistake." She disappeared back into the kitchen.**

**Donovan was sure of that. It was just a question of **_**when**_** he had made it.**

**"Besides which," Marcie called, "you've missed her tonight. The performance finished an hour ago."**

**"I didn't think you would appreciate my leaving half-way through your dinner."**

**"I'm glad my feelings were considered at one point at least." **

**Donovan hunched his shoulders, her terseness grating on him, but he couldn't blame her. This was why he avoided Mercury's name during dinner.**

**He heard Marcie's cell phone ring and rested his head on the sofa's back, closing his eyes. Hopefully this would be a long call, and he could make an excuse and leave early. The day spent in Court had been tedious, dinner touch and go, and he just wanted to sleep it off.**

**"What?" he heard Marcie's voice rise in decibels from the kitchen. "Very funny, Eugene, I'll remember that one in court." She rushed into the room, her cell now closed in her hand. "Frank. Turn on the TV. Quick!"**

**Donovan was half out of the sofa but she cut him off, going straight to the remotes on top of the television, and turned on the set. Flicking the channels, she stopped on an advertisement about Real Estate on Long Island.**

**Dropping the phone on the coffee table, Marcie sat down on the sofa he'd vacated and looked up at him. "That was Eugene. He thought I might be interested in watching Letterman on TV. They just announced that the next guest to follow these messages is Mercury Aldair who will be talking about her next play called, 'Nude on a Chair'. Considering Eugene was there outside the Courthouse on Monday **_**and**_** recognized who she was, he's put two and two together, and come up with the Joke of the Week."**

**"Son-of-a...! Is this live?" Donovan reached for his own cell, but Marcie put her hand on it before he could open it.**

**"Don't bother," she said, not taking her eyes from the TV. "It's pre-recorded but you can't stop it airing. No time, and the interest you'd create would only amplify anything she's about to say." Marcie jumped up and grabbed a blank video beside the VCR, pushed it into the recorder and sat down again. "Get comfortable, Frank. We tape the interview and take it from there."**

**Donovan sat down on the edge of the sofa seat and leaned forward, hands dangling between his knees, as he stared at the TV screen. Happy people were eating McDonald burgers as he waited for the program to come back. He saw Marcie give him a quick glance, then turn back to stare at him.**

**"You look like you're going to kill someone, Frank. It's a good thing your lawyer is present."**

**His jaw ached with the effort not to say something he'd regret.**

**The seasoned face of David Letterman filled the screen, pitching his preamble. "Welcome back to the show! I knew you wouldn't go away, not when my next guest is not only beautiful but multi-talented. A lyricist, playwright and painter all rolled into one package. Mercury Aldair has exploded onto Broadway with her musical, 'Magical Dreams' and is set to keep burning with another play in the pipeline. She's here tonight to talk to us about her career and her latest venture in her first ever television interview. Ms Mercury Aldair!"**

**The audience applause beckoned Mercury across the studio floor to Letterman at his desk. Donovan's eyes followed her. She looked good, her long hair swinging against a soft ivory-colored clinging dress that stopped well above her knees. He appreciated the matching high heels that emphasized her calves and ankles. **

**"She looks better on the stage," Marcie said. "Too tall for TV. She dwarfs everything."**

**Donovan ignored her. **

**"Congratulations on the success of 'Magical Dreams', Mercury," Letterman said heartily. "It's been playing for two months and it's already sold two point five million in advance ticket sales. How will you find time to write your next one?"**

**"It's already written," Mercury said, her voice soft. Donovan watched her closely, uncaring how Marcie might construe his interest. Both her walk across the studio floor and her voice were hesitant.**

**"That's wonderful. Very risqué title, isn't it? 'Nude on a Chair'." Letterman winked into the camera then turned back to his guest. "Tell us what it's about."**

**"Geesus!" Marcie said. "This is going to be good."**

**"It's about a starving law student…" Mercury was perched on the edge of her chair, looking around nervously. She doesn't like the TV cameras, Donovan guessed. "...who supplements his college fees by modeling..." **

**Donovan shook his head slowly from side to side. "Don't do it, Mercury," he said softly. "Don't do it."**

**"**_**Geesus**_**!" Marcie said again, jumping up from the sofa and folding her arms across her chest. "She's treading on thin ice here."**

**"Listen to this," Donovan ordered.**

**"... an older woman who commissions him for a painting takes him under her wing and changes his life. She falls in love with him, but he never sees her as anything other than a benefactor. He is innocent of her motives, while she doesn't realize the price she has to pay for her generosity."**

**"Why are you doing this?" Donovan asked her image, his fingers digging into Marcie's sofa.**

**"Sounds too much like 'The Graduate' to me," Marcie said. "That bird ain't gonna fly."**

**"I don't think she wants it to," he said, watching Mercury's body language. She wanted to be anywhere but there. **_**Then what the hell was she doing?**_

**"How soon will you be going into rehearsals?" Letterman asked. "Will you be working concurrently with 'Dreams'?"**

**"Initially, yes," Mercury said. "Rehearsals will start in about... three weeks."**

**"Three weeks?" Letterman said. "We can look forward to it soon then. You must have your lead signed on already. Who is he?"**

**Donovan watched her take a deep breath. "He's a young actor from Israel, trained in Bristol, England. He was quickly snapped up for a feature movie after graduating from theatre school, but I've managed to lure him back to the stage for 'Nude on a Chair'. I won't have him long though, as he's already contracted for a sequel to the feature."**

**"She's making this up," Donovan said, confident in his conviction. "Look at the way she keeps licking her lips."**

**"It doesn't matter," Marcie said, sitting back down. "Most of the stuff they say on talk shows is rubbish. That's why I don't watch it and Eugene does. They just retract it later and say the deal fell through." She put a hand on his thigh. "And I've got an issue with your looking at her lips."**

**He ignored her, too focused on Mercury.**

**"You're not mentioning names then?" Letterman laughed.**

**"You'll find out soon enough, when we've signed up all the cast and Publicity is ready to announce its launch."**

**"Is the actor prepared to strip for the stage?" **

**"He has agreed to, yes. It will be tastefully done, though."**

**"And which part will be yours, Mercury? The 'older' woman? Surely not!"**

**"No, we're still waiting on the actor we've cast to sign the deal. I'll be playing the woman's niece, who paints his portrait and becomes his lover."**

**"Mercury, Mercury, Mercury," Donovan said under his breath. "Why are you doing this?"**

**"Well, we can't get her on anything yet," Marcie said. "It's all very imprecise."**

**"Ah!" Letterman said, "A love triangle. With a happy ending this time? 'Dreams' is a bit of a tragedy."**

**"At this stage, no." Mercury laughed. "But I could always rewrite the ending."**

**"I understand you painted the main promotional poster for 'Dreams'," Letterman said. "Will you also be painting 'Nude on a Chair's' advertising material?"**

**"Yes, I've already done that too, and no, before you ask, I didn't bring a copy. That will be released with the Publicity launch."**

**"Son-of-a-bitch!" Marcie hissed, sitting down beside Donovan again. **

**"Who posed for the painting? Your young actor?"**

**Donovan's eyes narrowed as Mercury went suddenly pale. She seemed to zone out and Letterman noticed it too.**

**"Mercury?" Letterman pressed. "Ms Aldair!"**

**She changed position in the chair and gave a half-smile. "Uh, no, it was someone else."**

**"It would be extraordinary if it were this mystery man of yours... Frank Donovan. The tabloids can't manage to track him down."**

**"Oh, shit!" Marcie said. Donovan felt her grip his thigh. "If she says anything now..."**

**"I don't think she will," Donovan said. "That's not her plan." He forced himself to relax, flexing his hands.**

**"He's just someone I knew a long time ago," Mercury said. "People and experiences usually inspire creativity. Frank inspired 'Dreams'." She pushed herself back into the chair and crossed her legs. Donovan could see she was unwinding now, getting the hang of the big cameras or just glad the new play subject was finished with. And despite what Marcie said earlier, Mercury's legs looked good on TV.**

**"It's about him, then?" Letterman prompted. "He's the circus performer?"**

**"He might be a lot of things, but I don't think he's ever been a circus performer." She smiled at the camera. **

**She's hoping I'm watching, Donovan thought, tensing again.**

**Marcie was shaking her head. "This is ridiculous. This is saying nothing but insinuating and twisting **_**everything**_**."**

**"And where is he now?" Letterman asked.**

**"I've no idea," Mercury said.**

**"He's lying low. Breaking someone else's heart, no doubt," the show host laughed.**

**Donovan felt Marcie's hand slide off his leg. **_**What? Did she think she was next?**_

**"Your dedication to him then…" Letterman said. "Was that a reaching out to him? To tell him that bygones will be bygones?"**

**"Not really. It was more of an acknowledgement of the part he played in 'Dreams'. I didn't want him to think that I'd forgotten what he'd done for me."**

**"And if that's not hitting below the belt, nothing is," Marcie said between her teeth.**

**"Another Broadway success story. Well, thank you, Mercury," Letterman said, wrapping up the interview, "we wish you every success for both productions. For those who haven't seen what could very well be this year's Tony Award winner, 'Magical Dreams' is appearing at ****"**

**Marcie held up the remote and switched off the TV, then stopped the tape.**

**"How much damage has she done?" Donovan asked. It sounded like a snarl, even to him.**

**"Down boy," Marcie said, her back to the TV. "Put it this way, I don't want you anywhere near my courtroom anymore. Banner will have to fly solo from now on. You've gone from FBI liaison to a nude law student and/or circus performer sitting on a chair."**

**"That's not funny." **

**"**_**I'm**__**not**__**laughing**_**!" She moved away a step. "The damage professionally? You can answer that one better than I. Publicly... people may assume you inspired this new play now, which means your friends and colleagues who saw this interview are going to be looking at you really weirdly from now on. She's publicly **_**embarrassed**_** you more than anything else."**

**"If there **_**is**_** a new play," he added.**

**"You're convinced she made it up? Well, then, whether it's real or not, Eugene must be pissing himself now." She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and turned it off. "Just in case he wants to call and gloat."**

**"I have to get to her." Donovan was off the sofa and heading to the door. "If this is all just attention-seeking, she succeeded." **

**"You're not going now?" Marcie was right behind him. "It's nearly midnight!"**

**He stopped and looked down at her. "You want me to wait while she feeds the press with more lies?"**

**"If that's the case, she's already done it, Frank. Letterman is taped during the day, in front of a live audience. You can bet there was a reporter amongst them. The press would have interviewed her anytime this afternoon or after this evening's performance."**

**"I should have cancelled dinner after all. I was wasting time." He threw his head back, working his jaw.**

**Marcie gasped, drawing his attention back to her. Her mouth twisted and her eyes were moist. He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. This is getting to us, isn't it?"**

**Marcie nodded. "It's not working, Frank," she said, turning away. "Maybe you had better get all of this sorted out and then if you're still interested, come back and see me."**

**Donovan's hands tightened on her shoulders. He had to stop putting his own concerns ahead of other's feelings. "I'm sorry," he said again. **

**"Forget it," she said, looking back at him. "I was hoping for something that's not going to happen." Her smile was brave but forced.**

**Marcie was probably right. The damage was already done and it wasn't fair to put her in this position. He bent down and touched his lips to hers in apology. She responded tentatively and he increased the pressure, examining his reaction to the contact as he explored her mouth. He desperately needed to feel something more with a woman, something that would make him forget nights spent losing himself in the arms and body of a soft whirlwind of a woman with ever-changing moods, keeping him on his toes, physically and emotionally. A woman like his job, with the highs and lows of challenges and unpredictable outcomes conquered. **

**He had it once.**

**It felt good with Marcie but it didn't feel different. Not from the last woman or the one before that. There was only one who turned his head and heart inside out. **

**He pulled Marcie to him fiercely, trying to block out the picture of the long-haired witch that was destroying his peace of mind.**

_**Chapter Ten**_

**"Frank, you need to see this!"**

**Donovan swung around in the shower to see Marcie standing at the bathroom doorway, waving a newspaper in the air. He couldn't see her features clearly through the steam and the wet glass of the shower door, but her voice was furious. **_**Here we go again. **_**He shut off the water and reached for a towel. "Is there a write-up about the Letterman interview?"**

**"No, more... much more."**

**Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a second one, throwing it over his shoulders. "Can it wait till I dress?" He was hoping for a morning reprieve before tackling this issue again. It looked like it wasn't going to happen.**

**Marcie's brows went up. "If you think reports about your love-child can wait, sure! Go ahead and dress." She spun on her heel and disappeared back into the bedroom.**

**"**_**Shit!**_**" **

**Donovan didn't normally waste his breath on profanities but this had gone too far. He tossed the towel from his shoulders, reached for his Calvin Klein mesh T-shirt and put it on as he walked out of the bathroom. The bedroom was empty and he scoured the room for the rest of his clothes. Discarding his other towel, he hastily dressed and went in search of Marcie. She was sitting at the small kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Seeing him, she pushed a full cup toward him. **

**"Sit down, Frank. You're going to need the caffeine **_**and **_**the support."**

**So much for morning after-glow. Marcie had invited him to stay the night, but any thoughts of sharing a companionable breakfast were shot down by the look on her face. **

**"What is it now?" he asked, taking a mouthful of coffee, forgoing the sugar and ignoring the scald. Physical pain was easier than this mental harassment Mercury was putting him through. "Good morning, by the way," he added as an afterthought.**

**"We'll see if you think so after I read this little gem to you," Marcie said, tapping the paper neatly folded at the section he presumed interested her. "Same entertainment section as yesterday. This editor loves Mercury Aldair. Can't blame him, considering the gossip fodder she's feeding him." She took a breath. "You ready for this?"**

**He shook his head. "Probably not."**

**She nodded and began to read. "'Broadway's darling, Mercury Aldair, rocked the theatre circuit late last night by announcing after her evening performance that she will not be available for any more performances of 'Magical Dreams' and that she will be replaced by her understudy, Ms Roberta Toulouse, until further notice. When asked for an explanation for her temporary retirement, Ms Aldair explained that she will be taking a few days off to visit Disneyland with her nine year old nephews. **

**"'Upon further research, it was discovered that the boys both live with her sister, Stacey Murchison in Great Neck, New York, but are eight months apart in age. This led to some conjecture by several entertainment journalists which was put to Ms Aldair before she left the theatre last night. She revealed that her sister gave birth to twins but only one survived. In an attempt to assuage their loss, Mr and Mrs Murchison adopted a second child later that year. The Murchisons have not been available for comment.**

**"'One may ask,'" Marcie continued reading, "'if the second child is not so much Ms Aldair's nephew, but Mrs Murchison's? Could this be a love-child of Ms Aldair's and that mystery man, Frank Donovan, who, according to a David Letterman interview urgently aired last night, has been somewhat heavily involved in Ms Aldair's creative processes?'"**

**"This is ludicrous!" **

**"There's more," Marcie said, her jaw clenched, "and it gets better. 'Other paper sources have revealed that Frank Donovan is currently involved in a case being heard in the Queens County Criminal Court and that there was an **_**incident**_** last Monday when a woman fitting Ms Aldair's description presented a man with a large painting outside the Court. Witnesses have been found to collaborate that the painting was of a male nude sitting on a chair. If the woman **_**was**_** Ms Aldair, then we can only speculate that the man was Frank Donovan.'"**

**"**_**Son-of-a-bitch!**_**" Donovan slammed his cup onto the table, and pushed back his chair so hard it toppled. "They've been very busy, haven't they?" he snarled, pacing the small kitchen, feeling confined and restless.**

**"Else, Eugene has," Marcie suggested, eyeing the fallen chair. "I'd make a good guess **_**he's**_** the collaborating 'witness'. Now, Frank, tell me. Is there any chance of this 'nephew' being your child?" **

**"No way." He picked up the chair and shoved it back under the table.**

**"That's the first thing the man assumes. When were you last with her? As lovers, I mean?"**

**"Over ten years ago."**

**"The boys are nine years old, Frank, maybe nearly ten. There's every possibility****"**

**"There isn't. We always took precautions." He slapped both hands onto the table, hunched his shoulders over it and thrust his face into hers.**

**"Precautions fail," Marcie said, pulling back in her chair.**

**"Marcie****!" **_**God, what was he doing?**_** The woman looked afraid of him. He straightened and resumed his pacing.**

**"I'm… I'm looking at this from a lawyer's point of view, Frank," she said, tossing the paper onto the table. "We have to rule out every possibility and then start looking at the probabilities."**

**"She's lying! She's making it up to get at me."**

**"Do you know this sister?" Marcie pulled the paper forward and scanned the article again. "Stacey Murchison?"**

**"I've never met any of the family."**

**"How long were you together?"**

**"Three months." He grabbed his cup and poured himself another coffee, then hooked the chair out from under the table with his foot and sat down again. **

**"And you never met her family? Did they live distantly?"**

**"Not really." Marcie was frowning and he knew she was thinking it must have been an abnormal relationship. "I'm not on the witness stand, Marcie."**

**"I'm just trying to build up a picture here, Frank. Trying to understand why she's doing this."**

**This time he dumped sugar into his coffee, rammed in a spoon and stirred viciously. "I ended the relationship and I ended it badly. I've no excuse and she has every right to hold it against me, but this public denouncement has to stop."**

**"You don't say! But if I caught the man I loved in bed with another woman, I'd be pretty vindictive too." **

**"That's **_**not **_**how it went down." It was happening again. They had become lovers last night and now they were sniping at each other. **

**Because of Mercury.**

**"You're not exactly forthcoming, are you?" Marcie said, tapping her fingers on the table. "Okay, I'll stop prodding. It's not getting us anywhere." **

**She shut down on him. He was thankful for it, but admitted he was being a bastard still. "I'm sorry for taking this out on you, Marcie. She's driving me crazy."**

**"I can see that." Marcie stood, taking her cup over to the sink, and rinsed it before setting it on the drainer. "I'm trying not to take it personally, but it's damned hard." She spun around and leaned against the sink with her arms folded. "What do you plan to do?"**

**"I'll put a trace on her and confront her. She's gone too far."**

**"I suggest you start now. But before you do anything, make sure Banner is up to speed for his session in Court today. I'm getting dressed." She gave him a smile that was a mere tightening of her mouth. "You can let yourself out."**

**And that was that. Another relationship blown out of the water. Donovan took his coffee cup over to the sink, emptied the dregs and tossed the mug onto the drainer. Turning on the tap, he ran his wrists under the water, cooling his blood and his temper. **

**Impressive record, Donovan, he thought. **_**Real impressive. **_

**During the cab ride back to his apartment, Donovan contacted Jim Hunt, a local P.I. he used when in New York, and arranged the trace on Mercury. He was promised a car outside her apartment within thirty minutes. Considering it was nearly nine now, he hoped either this so-called 'Disneyland' trip was a ruse or she hadn't left yet. He also organized Banner to meet him at his apartment for a debriefing in the McIntyre case.**

**Changing clothes at his apartment took less than ten minutes by which time Rian Banner was knocking at his door. He let in the blonde-haired, blue-eyed New York Agent, and it struck Donovan that neither Banner nor the case would miss his presence. Rian's jovial boy-next-door looks were far more conducive to gaining a jury's trust than Donovan's own brooding influence in the Courtroom. **

**"Take a seat, Rian," Donovan said, pointing to the dining room table topped with his briefcase and half a dozen over-stuffed files.**

**"Sure, Frank. Oh... by the way, congratulations."**

**Donovan halted on his way to the kitchen for coffee and turned around. "You've read the morning paper."**

**"Unh, unh, Gina did. My wife **_**always**_** reads the entertainment gossip. We saw yesterday's too but didn't hassle you about it, but considering you're a daddy now, well... I just had to congratulate you."**

**If Donovan didn't like the man so much, he would have wiped the smile from his face with his fist. "There's no truth in it, Rian," he said, his voice measured, betraying no emotion.**

**"'Course not. We know what the tabloids are like. So what's with you and Mercury Aldair?"**

**"Not now." Donovan continued to the kitchen. What **_**is**_** between us? Miles of acrimony at the moment**_**. Is that what you were aiming for, Mercury?**_

**"Had breakfast?" Donovan called out while filling the coffee-maker. **

**"I'm set," Rian said from the other room. "You do what you have to. Meanwhile, I'll review your files."**

_**Do what you have to...**_** It may yet come to that. Donovan scanned his fridge without interest, grabbed a half-gallon of orange juice, shut the door and uncapped the bottle and took a deep swig from it. He leaned against the fridge door, staring out of the kitchen's small window at the park, canopied in green, in the next block. **_**Where are you, Mercury? What are you planning now?**_

**His cell rang and he put down the drink container to retrieve the phone from his jacket. "Donovan."**

**"Jim here, Mr D. There's been some activity outside the target's building. There was an arrival ten minutes ago. A woman looking to be in her forties. Same woman is now exiting the building with our target. Both ladies are climbing into the back of a cab that I think might be heading downtown. I'll proceed with the tail."**

**"As soon as you determine their destination, report back," Donovan said, the scent of the chase sharpening his voice. "Don't let them out of your sight." He closed his cell and joined Banner in the living room, wondering who Mercury's friend might be. "Any questions, Rian?"**

**Banner was already on the second file and he finished flipping through the pages, before reaching for a third. "Nah! I should be ready for anything Eugene Leiter throws at me. I've managed so far."**

**"You're right," Donovan said, sitting at the table opposite the Agent. "You don't need me, but Marcie asked me to brief you anyway."**

**"And you've got the lovely ADA on the go too? Busy lad, you are."**

**Donovan's mouth twisted. "Not any more."**

**"Doesn't like competing with the Broadway diva, eh? Can't say I blame her." **

**"There's no competition," Donovan said, massaging his temples. "The woman's making my life hell with all these trumped up allegations."**

**"You know, you could diffuse the situation by going public yourself," Banner said, leaning further back in his chair. "Your continued silence through all this media attention isn't helping."**

**"I'm too thankful the media can't find me to even consider going public with it. Though I've got a feeling you'll be dodging the press outside the Courthouse today."**

**"Don't worry about me. **_**You **_**might want to reconsider though****"**

**Donovan's cell rang and he took the call immediately. "Donovan."**

**"Jim here. The target's taxi has stopped outside Macy's and the women are getting out. Looks like it's 'Ladies Day Out' at the shops."**

**"Stay with them," Donovan ordered. "I'll join you. I'll call you back on this number when I arrive." **

**"You'd better be prepared to pay the fine when my car gets towed away," Hunt said, "'cos I'm going to have to double park here."**

**"Done. Just don't lose sight of them." Particularly not in Macy's. He'll never find them. He hung up and stowed his cell. "I have to go, Rian. Help yourself to the coffee in the kitchen." **

**"Where're you off to?"**

**Donovan pushed himself away from the table, buttoned his coat and raised his eyebrows. **

**"Shopping." **

**The taxi let Donovan out at Macy's entrance on Thirty-Fourth and Seventh and he scouted the four-way street looking for a double-parked vehicle. There were none. No surprise. The cops were quick in this city and Hunt was already without his wheels. He pulled out his cell and called up Hunt's number and walked into the store while he waited for the connection.**

**"I'm here," he told the P.I. "Where do I head?"**

**"You're gonna love this. I'm standing in the middle of ladies' lingerie on the sixth floor and the target's surrounded by a legion of fans. I'm feeling a bit self-conscious hiding amongst this lacy stuff so I'll be glad to change shifts with you."**

**"Keep them in sight till I get there."**

**"Oh, these ladies aren't going anywhere fast. The fans are giving her a hard time about getting rid of that 'good-for-nuthin' Frank Donovan who doesn't deserve her. What **_**have**_** you been up to, Mr D? First the tabloids, now this public hate session."**

**"My first mistake was going to the theatre," he said into the cell. He was on the escalators and kept Hunt's line open as he headed up toward the sixth floor. He considered what Banner had said about spiking Mercury's guns by going public himself. He was already out of the McIntyre case, and the Agency would probably keep him on the backburner till it all blew over, so his main concern was the repercussion on Mercury herself. Still, one could argue that she asked for it.**

**There was no need to scan the floor for her when he reached it. He simply followed the sound of laughter and excitedly-raised voices. "You're off the hook, Jim. Go collect your car and send me the bill."**

**"With pleasure," Hunt said. "The tow company's a huge improvement on this hen party. I'm outta here."**

**Donovan caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw Hunt extricate himself from a stand of lacy teddies. Despite his mood, Donovan couldn't prevent a smile. The P.I. looked flustered, his round face red with embarrassment.**

**Acknowledging the man with a nod, Donovan turned his attention to the small crowd of women surrounding Mercury. She was standing with her back to a counter manned by no less than four shop assistants and looking casual in a buttoned white cotton shirt and short tan skirt made sexier by high-heeled red shoes. **

**There was an attractive auburn-haired woman standing next to her – the friend who had come shopping with her? – and a bevy of smiling women in front of her. He moved close enough to hear what was being said but kept out of her line of vision. He wasn't going to hide amongst lace but he didn't want to draw attention to himself either.**

**"...Ms Aldair! You need a decent man, like my Enrique!" one woman said, her dark head nodding up and down in emphasis. "'e would not let you down."**

**"Or my Jephson," another said. "He loves children. He wouldn't desert a woman."**

**Donovan's brows rose. He was getting scorched well and good, but he was past stressing over it. The damage was done and Banner was right. The best way to diffuse it would be to contain the issue, rather than let it spiral out of control with gossip. **

**"Ladies, please!" Mercury laughed. She didn't seem bothered by the attention. "Don't give away your husbands. You deserve good men. I let myself be blinded by good looks when I should have been looking for dependability. Someone trustworthy and loyal like you ladies have." **

**"Oh, Ms Aldair, 'e was never unfaithful to a lovely lady like you?"**

**"No, he wasn't unfaithful... just faithless."**

**This character assassination had gone far enough. Donovan moved closer and into her line of vision. His height guaranteed that she saw him almost immediately and he watched her eyes widen at seeing him. He held her gaze and watched the play of emotions over her face – shock, embarrassment and then... calculation? – before she reacted. He could only guess at what she was thinking, but her next words were totally unexpected.**

**"Darling!" she cried. "You finished early? How wonderful. You're just in time to meet these lovely ladies and pay for my purchases. Ladies! Let him through. **_**This**_** is the wonderful man in my life now, so you needn't be concerned for me." She was holding out her arms to him, her face glowing, and he felt a cruel contraction grip his gut. He always felt safe in those arms, protected and pampered, and it had been good. He hadn't felt it since. He fought those feelings for the three months he was with her, not trusting them, but having lost them for the last decade, he realized that's what he missed most and needed. **

**Still needed.**

**The revelation should have set him in stone, but he moved to her as if drawn to a magnet. His legs were answering automatic signals from a mind spiraling with visions of her with him, beside him, under him; remembering the sound of her laughter, the feel of her skin and the touch of her hands on his body. **

**He faltered as he realized what was happening and clamped down on those images, forcing his calculative processes to kick in. She was acting the role of her life, either assuring her fans or setting him up for another fall, one he couldn't predict. He decided to call her bluff, sweep her off her feet, and kiss her senseless, and not necessarily in that order.**

**He shut down his susceptibility to those open arms. It was time to do a little acting of his own.**

**Walking through the parted sea of women, he briefly made eye contact with the auburn-haired friend. Her features looked familiar, her brow furrowed and mouth pursed in confusion, but he didn't know her. He swung his gaze back to Mercury and mustered up a dazzling smile of warmth and delight. **

**He went into her arms and his head went down and kissed her. He imagined how the movie or stage stars would do it and tried to emulate them – her spine bent over his arm, prolonged lip-locking, lots of movement, switching from side to side and his success was reflected in the hoots and titters of the women around them. **

**It wasn't hard to do and he was enjoying himself. The feel of her body against his, the surprised vulnerability of her mouth was rousing his senses in a way that still amazed him. Although Mercury messed with his head, she still managed to turn his body traitorous. He wanted her. Not Marcie nor the other women who had come and gone so briefly in his life. Mercury had been his haven and, damn his weakness, he wanted that back.**

**He felt her freeze at first, go rigid on him next, then start to squirm, small sounds of protest coming from her throat. Her hands went to his shoulders and started to push, but he had her firm and immobile. Her foot moved and a heel came down on the toe of his shoe. He lifted his head but didn't let her go. **

_**Admit it, Donovan.**_** This was what he wanted, her in his arms again, but he wasn't going to let her continue to wipe her feet on his reputation. Cupping the back of her neck with a hand, he gripped it in warning, schooling his face to reinforce the message. He would repay more violence in kind. She was panting, looking at him with a wildness in her eyes. He let her straighten, but hooked an arm around her waist and faced their audience. His other hand held hers in front of him with a pressure against her fingers that reinforced his earlier warning. **_**Play or pay.**_

**"Sorry about that ladies," he said, grinning widely. "That was long overdue and I couldn't help myself."**

**"Oooo, Ms Aldair!" one of her fans said. "Who is this? He's gorgeous!"**

**Mercury treated Donovan to a look edged with hate. He squeezed her hand and she winced. Turning back to the women, she smiled brightly. "My boyfriend wants to remain anonymous for now." He caught another killing glance from her. "Despite that little display just then, he doesn't want–"**

**"The name's Frank Donovan, ladies," Donovan interrupted smoothly. "Mercury's been a little put out. She's been saying some nasty and untrue things about me lately, because I haven't been giving her as much attention as she craves. But that's going to change, **_**darling.**_** You won't be able to get rid of me now." **

**He pulled her closer to his side, and lowered his lips to her ear, where they lingered as he felt her tremble against him.**

**"**_**Check**_** and mate," he whispered.**

_**Chapter Eleven**_

**Mercury suffered the hardness of Frank's body where he held her forcibly against him and it felt like a trap. Twice now, he kissed her in public. The first time she goaded it, this time she actually invited it, but she expected her overt display to make him run, or at the very least, ignore her, reinforcing her belief he was an emotional coward. Instead, he floored her with this open show of affection. **_**Affection!**_** He practically ravaged her in front of her sister and these women. **

**She was burning where he touched her, embarrassed by the indignity of being captured against his side. She made to pull away several times only to have her hand squeezed harder each time. "Let me go," she whispered through clenched teeth.**

**"What's that, darling?" he asked, bringing his ear in closer.**

**"Let me go!" she hissed into it and bit down hard on his lobe.**

**He grunted and swung her around to face him, bringing her thighs hard into his, his hands capturing her wrists and twisting them behind her. The blaze in his face as he locked eyes with her gave the embrace the look of a lover wanting to be close. Only she felt the anger vibrate his body. Her breathing came in small pants and the whole of her being flushed with heat, but it wasn't with embarrassment this time. There was pleasure-pain cramping her loins and her knees began to fold. **

**She turned her head away in shame. **

**"Let her go," her sister said quietly.**

**Mercury rallied at the sound of Stacey's voice and pushed hard on Frank's chest. He released her and she stumbled. Recovering, she kept her back to the other shoppers and stared at his jacket button, breathing composure back into her body.**

**"Now please leave," Stacey said.**

**"That sounds like an excellent idea," Frank said. "But first, I believe I have to pay for these purchases, and then Mercury will be coming with me." **

**Mercury's eyes flew to his in dismay, but he was looking over her head at the fans behind her. **

**"If you don't mind, ladies," he said, "Ms Aldair would love to see you in the theatre, but we need to finish up here and find somewhere more private." He winked at them and Mercury saw red. **

**Hearing the women disperse with snatches of phrases about 'Ms Aldair's gorgeous man', Mercury directed all the fury in her face at Frank. "How dare you!" she seethed, checked from saying more by the confused looks on the shop assistants' faces. **

**Frank turned his back on her and handed over his credit card to one of the Macy's employees.**

**"Mercury," Stacey whispered, coming up close beside her. "For now, give in gracefully. Fight later."**

**"I never put off tomorrow what I can do today," Mercury said, feeling the situation sliding away from her as she watched Frank weighing up her sister. **

**"Never a truer word said," Frank stated. "You are?"**

**"Stacey Murchison." **

**"The sister," Frank said. "I'm Frank Donovan."**

**"The ex," Stacey countered. "I've met your portrait."**

**His brow rose. "Somehow, I'm not surprised, but I **_**am**_** surprised you brought it up."**

**"I'm surprised you subjected us to that little caveman performance. Why was that?"**

**Mercury squared her shoulders as his direct gaze brushed her. "Ask your sister," he said, turning away. "She'll tell you I have a history of it." He signed for the purchase and straightened. "Now, if we can drop you off somewhere, Mrs Murchison, Mercury and I need to have a discussion." Mercury felt his hand close over her upper arm as he made to move off. She grabbed her purchase and hastily thanked the assistants before being forced to follow him. **_**Give in now, fight later.**_** She used Stacey's advice like a mantra, delaying the inevitable explosion.**

**Stacey grabbed Frank's elbow, stopping him. "Oh, I'm not that easily gotten rid of," she said. "Let's go somewhere more private, certainly, but it will be the **_**three**_** of us." **

**"This is really between―"**

**"I grant you that, but I spent several months consoling this fragile blossom after you dumped her, so I am a little leery of your arrival in her life again." **

**Mercury pulled her arm from Frank's grasp and hissed a 'Stacey', but was ignored.**

**"I understand, Mrs Murchison, but Mercury has been trying to get my attention for five days now, and now that she has succeeded, neither of you can expect to scare me away."**

**Mercury could see her sister processing his words. "Mercury? Is that all this is? Attention-seeking?"**

**Guilt slid over her senses, replacing the anger. "No! I... " Mercury looked around uneasily, fearing eavesdroppers. "Can we please take this somewhere else?"**

**Stacey looked back at Donovan. "Mercury and I were planning to have lunch at the Marriott. You may join us if you want." Mercury could almost hear the 'if you dare' that she left unsaid.**

**"Mercury and I can do this alone." **

**"I realize that, Mr Donovan, so we'll ask my sister whether she wants to be alone with you. Mercury?"**

**"I... Frank, can we do this another time?" This was getting out of hand, but Mercury didn't know how to stem the situation. "Stacey came with me today because I asked her to. I'm not going to abandon her."**

**Frank was weighing up the odds, but, by the set of his mouth, he wasn't happy about it. "Coffee in Macy's would do," he finally said.**

**"Something stronger," Stacey said, countering him. "One of us is going to need it."**

**He lifted his chin but yielded. "The Marriott then, but the 'fragile blossom' was overdone, don't you think?" He smiled.**

**"Maybe. Maybe not." Stacey didn't return his smile. "You didn't see what you left behind."**

**Mercury turned her head away. She was furious at Frank's behavior and unsure of the wisdom of her sister coming to her rescue. She knew her little campaign would not go unpunished, or at the very least, unnoticed. She had only herself to blame for his seeking this conflict. He went to take her arm again to escort her to the escalator, but she shrugged it off. "How did you find me?" she asked.**

**"I had you followed."**

**"Of all the―!"**

**"You refused my calls. What did you expect me to do?"**

**They were at the escalator and Mercury insisted Frank go first, falling back with Stacey, seeking her reassuring presence. "Normal people don't have people followed."**

**"Thank you. I never considered myself 'normal'. You've reinforced that for me."**

**Her eyes narrowed. Was that a dig at her? "You can't have me followed. I have a right to my privacy."**

**She gasped as he grabbed her arm and brought her closer to his face. With him on the step below her, they were on eye-level and she faced him off, strangely comfortable in the familiar routine of baiting him.**

**"And what was that interview with Letterman? Those newspaper reports? Is that **_**your**_** idea of a person's right to privacy?"**

**"Back off, both of you!" Stacey interrupted. "I'm even more convinced I need to referee this little meeting. I don't know how you two ever got it on in the first place. You're like spitting cats!"**

**Mercury felt the adrenalin course through her. Stacey didn't know it, but that was exactly what had brought them together. Her baiting him and his biting back was like foreplay for them. She shivered at the thought, stepping closer to her sister. **

**On the ground floor, Stacey stepped in and took Frank's arm and Mercury wondered if her sister had decided she was going to referee before they even got to lunch. Stacey guided Frank outside, heading him uptown. The crowds jostling past in both directions made it impossible for Mercury to walk abreast with them and she was left bringing up the rear. **

**Watching her sister with him, she felt as if Stacey had just stolen her favorite toy, irrational though it was. Their heads were together, Frank leaning down so that he could hear Stacey, a frown on his face; she looking up earnestly to make her case, punctuating what she was saying with hand gestures. Mercury pushed forward to hear what was being said, but was shoved out of the way by a pedestrian hurrying past. **

**"Jerk!" she shouted at the man disappearing ahead.**

**Frank swung around and quizzed her with a look. She ignored him and he turned back to Stacey.**

**Mercury felt close to tears but didn't know why. Reaction from the argument in Macy's, maybe even being left out of the loop right now or confusion over how her body responded to his rough tactics – she couldn't explain it. She only knew she was feeling totally wretched. **

**Her vision blurred with unshed tears and she stumbled and went down. She didn't know what tripped her, only seeing the pavement rushing toward her. She cried out as a passer-by's heel jabbed into her hand, and then she saw Frank crouching down next to her. She felt his hands touch her tenderly, grip and hold her, then pick her up. Her eyes closed as tears fell slowly down her cheeks. Feeling his fingers feather across her face, she bit down on her lip to stop her confused misery from spilling over.**

**"Mercury!" It was Stacey, worry rampant in her voice.**

**"Can you walk?" Frank's deep tones caressed her with his concern. "Are you all right?"**

**She opened her eyes and his face was so close she should have pulled back, but all she wanted was to close the distance and make the contact complete. She felt protected from the moving tide of people, his arms and body her shield. **

**"What's wrong?" he asked softly. **

**It made her want to cry more. "I'm fine!" She struggled against him, ashamed, but he wouldn't let go. Instead, he half-lifted, half-dragged her to a shop front and sheltered her under its awning. **

**"Stay still till we check," he ordered. "Does anything hurt?"**

**"Nothing. No."**

**"There's blood on her knee, Frank," Stacey said. "Damn! I don't even have a tissue. I usually always have one for the boys, but... Mercury, give me that." She held out her hand for the bag with the purchases Frank had paid for, and Mercury passed it over.**

**She watched Stacey rummage in it and then realized what she was going to do. "You're **_**not**_** going to use my new lingerie!" she gasped.**

**"Use my handkerchief," Frank said. "Better still, I'll do it." He shook out a white square and bent down to gently dab it onto Mercury's knee. She hissed through the sting of it and turned her face into his neck. Before she could stop herself, she deeply breathed in his scent and sighed. Just this one little indulgence, she promised herself, before she started hating him again.**

**"I'm okay," she whispered against his skin and felt him tremble in response. She was affecting him as much as he her. His grip loosened and she pushed herself away, rearranging her short skirt self-consciously, then stared in horror at the state of her three hundred dollar pair of shoes. The red leather was badly scuffed on one shoe and a whole heel was missing on the other.**

**"My shoes are ruined!"**

**"Typical," Frank said, straightening and looking around. "Stacey, perhaps we can take a taxi."**

**"You're right. Mercury's not walking anywhere in those. I'll get us a cab to take us to the closest shoe store, **_**then**_** the restaurant." She pushed through the crowd and disappeared, still hanging onto Mercury's lingerie bag.**

**Mercury didn't know where to look, so she kept examining her ruined shoes. She felt Frank's finger under her chin and tossed her head. "Don't touch me! You've done enough of that already."**

**"You keep... inviting me to do it." His voice was amused, but when she looked him in the eyes, she saw no humor there, only a brooding watchfulness.**

**Was she? Was that what she was doing? "That's a lie," she denied.**

**"All right, then. You keep setting me up to do it." He squatted down and tapped her intact shoe. "Take it off and I'll break its heel. Then you'll be on an even keel."**

**She lifted her foot at the order, allowing him to slip it off. "I was **_**not**_** setting up anything."**

**"Now, **_**that's**_** a lie." He looked up, and she saw a fleeting smile. "You've been conceiving some sort of confrontation since you saw me Sunday night. Presenting me with that print, organizing press coverage and damning interviews. Tell me you didn't arrange those." He broke the heel with a sharp twist and slipped the shoe back onto her foot.**

**"I... All right. I wanted to hit back at you. It was stupid. As soon as Stacey arrived and we talked, I knew I'd made a mistake, but..." She closed her eyes. "I just wanted to hit back―"**

**"Why?" He straightened, bringing her in closer as she was bumped by another pedestrian. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the feel of his body against hers. **

**"If you'd just left it at the public slapping at the theatre," he said, "I would have gone away. I wouldn't have come near you."**

**"That's not―" Her eyes flew open. She'd almost said that's not what she wanted. "I wanted you to pay for some of the hurt you inflicted on me," she amended. She was a fool for even admitting this to him, but she couldn't prevent the words from tumbling out. "Using the media... it was the only way I knew."**

**"It wasn't the only way. You could have talked to me. Instead, you've sabotaged a court case, increased my public profile, pissed Marcie off****"**

**Mercury breathed in sharply. "It's all about you, is it? Your career, your public life, your girlfriend. How inconvenient for you!" **

**She wrenched away from him and plunged into the crowd, putting as much distance between him as her damaged shoes would allow. **

**She heard him call her name, but she wouldn't look back.**

_**Chapter Twelve**_

**As soon as her cell rang, Mercury knew it was Stacey and she knew she would answer it. She'd done enough irresponsible things already, she didn't need to compound her pettiness by refusing to answer a phone.**

**"Yes, Stacey," she sighed, pushing her foot into a delicate slip-on sandal. Mercury was surrounded by shoes, arranged by sales assistants as they presented new styles and scattered by her after trying them on. The women were now busy serving other customers and Mercury was appreciating the temporary privacy in the back corner of Macy's shoe section.**

**"Where are you, Mercury?"**

**"Around." **_**Drowning my woes in a sea of shoes.**_

**"Are you coming to the Marriott?"**

**"Is Frank there?"**

**"Yes he is."**

**"I'd rather not."**

**"It would make more sense to do so. We both had reservations about hanging around waiting to see if you would show up, but hell, Sis, someone had to."**

**"It doesn't matter anymore." Mercury's voice reflected the hollowness within her.**

**"If you put if off today, Mercury, I have the distinct feeling that you'll still have to face him some time. He's livid at the moment. And he's not going to hang around awaiting your pleasure."**

**"I'll pass, Stacey. Thanks anyway. You enjoy Frank. You can have him."**

**"It so happens," her sister said, her voice curt, "that I'm not the one he came to see. You were the one who said we needed to take this somewhere else, and now you've done a runner on us. Mercury? Are you there?"**

**"Yes, I'm here," she said, resignation underlining her words.**

**"Good! I mean, bad. You should be here. Now get your ass to Marriott's before he eats **_**all**_** of the bread sticks. Have you **_**seen**_** how much this man eats?"**

**Mercury looked up at the ceiling to prevent new tears from falling. **_**I was the one who kept him fed while we were together. **_**"Yes, I have," she whispered. "I don't have any shoes." **

**"And that's your fault. ****He has a perfectly good credit card and is willing to use it, but you ran off and wouldn't take advantage of it."**

**Mercury couldn't prevent the smile. "I'll still pass, Stacey."**

**There was silence on the other end of the phone as her sister regrouped. "You have a choice, Mercury. You see him now in this restaurant or you lose any chance you have of ever finding closure here. I don't know why you started what you started, but this thundercloud I've got sitting opposite me is the result, and it's up to **_**you**_** to resolve or disperse the storm. Get my meaning, sister dear?"**

**"Why? I don't know that I can." **

**"I told you, honey." Her sister's voice softened. "You must have known what ball you set rolling. You had to know that he would come after you. Well, he has, and you have to catch the ball and sink it... Be quiet, Frank. I've got two lively boys under my roof and I know all about ball-games... Mercury? Frank's playing hard-ball too, but I know these things... All right, all right... Frank says he just wants to set the record straight. If you'll pull back, he's willing to talk. Mercury... you need to do this, for **_**all**_** our sakes."**

**"All right!" Mercury said, giving in, but not gracefully. "I'll meet you there. I'll finish up****-****"**

**"How long?" Stacey asked. **

**"I'm buying shoes here, Sis. How long do you think?"**

**Stacey gave an audible groan. "...Frank, I hate to tell you this, but you've got the pleasure of my company for another hour or more... Mercury, he won't wait. He's ready to leave. He's had a gutful of me, and I'm about to return the compliment."**

**"I don't give a damn if he leaves. Let him."**

**"You don't mean that. You need this as much as he does."**

**The line went dead and Mercury stared at her cell in one hand and the leather sandal in the other. Stacey was enduring Frank but she didn't understand him like she, herself, did. He wasn't an easy man to know or love.**

**But you managed to do it, she told herself. You managed for three glorious months.**

**It took another half hour before Mercury reached the restaurant. She wasn't in a hurry, dreading the confrontation, but by the time she got to the Marriott, she had mustered up sufficient courage to get her through the door. **

**She made her way to the Atrium restaurant and exchanged greetings with the **_**maitre d**_**'. She was glad to see Tony on duty. She dined here often and his reception of her was friendly and respectful, a salve to her bruised feelings. Following his brisk step to her table, she saw Stacey first, her sister probably positioning herself to watch the door. Frank was at an angle to her and Mercury felt a stab of guilt when she saw his grim profile. Stacey was talking, her hands moving as rapidly as her mouth, and he wasn't liking what he was hearing. It was obvious in the set of his chin and the rigidity of his back. **

**Stacey fired another volley at him before standing to greet Mercury. "'Bout time you got here, Sis. I've been wanting to ring Mom to check on how the boys are treating her, but I didn't dare let this man out of my sight."**

**Frank had risen too and the displeased look he gave her turned her guilt to an inner smile. If Stacey had been giving him a hard time while they waited, she should have just set her sister loose on him earlier instead of arranging the media condemnation.**

**"You'd better let Frank order some lunch too," Stacey said. "The way he's been knocking down those bourbons on an empty stomach… Well, it's either indicative of his stamina or his folly. Get the Chef's Special." She patted Mercury on the shoulder. "It's a seafood platter and Tony recommended it. I won't be long."**

**Mercury watched her sister thread her way through the tables and out the door and then took the seat beside Frank, feeling a little confused. Cell phone reception was excellent in the restaurant, so maybe Stacey wanted privacy. Turning back to Frank, she noticed he was eating the last bread stick. "You could have saved me one," she said without thinking.**

**He froze mid-bite then pulled the remainder of the stick out of his mouth and solemnly offered it to her. **

**She looked at it, at his mouth, then looked away. "No, thanks," she mumbled. She remembered when she used to feed him. He loved his food. He loved how she 'served' his food.**

**Placing the bread on the tablecloth between them, he signaled for their waitress and ordered more bread sticks and another bourbon. The curvaceous brunette smiled at Frank while Mercury ordered Pellegrino and the Chef's Special, then left with a sway of her hips.**

**Mercury looked around at the other patrons, unwilling to meet his eyes. The restaurant was only half full, not surprising since it was not yet noon, and they were all couples, friends, lovers, or acquaintances; all smiling, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. **_**She**_** was stuck with a brooding Count Dracula. If he didn't say something soon, she was going to walk out of there, Stacey or no Stacey.**

**She jumped when he touched her hand. "Shit! You scared the life out of me!"**

**"I'd like to **_**wring**_** the life out of you. His voice was low and controlled, but his look was severe. "You have to stop this public condemnation of me, Mercury."**

**She laughed without mirth. "You're a lawyer, Frank. You should be able to handle bad public opinion by now." **

**He took an audible breath, and, placing his linked hands on the tablecloth, leaned toward her. She moved back slightly, drawn in by his proximity but needing to fight it for her own peace of mind. **

**"I'm not a lawyer," he said. "I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, which is the main reason why you need to stop your little publicity campaign."**

**"FBI?" She felt her eyes widen with disbelief.**

**"Yes."**

**"But you were in law–**

**"And I left. Life paths change."**

**"You have ID?"**

**"You don't believe me?" He reached into his pocket and flipped out his badge and credentials. She looked at them, but the information was hardly registering. **

**"This course you're pursuing has to stop," he said.**

**Her eyes met and held his. "You left me no choice, Frank. You walk back into my life and walk out again with hardly a word, and I'm plunged back into the mire. I had to exorcise you somehow or else relive all of that again."**

**"Revenge is not a choice, Mercury. It's a weakness."**

**"Don't you dare talk to me about weakness! You were the one who couldn't face the consequences of your decision to leave me, nor even supply me with a reason. Where's Stacey?" She looked around, not wanting to do this.**

**"She's not coming back."**

**"What?"**

**"The phone call was a ruse. She said her piece to me and she's given me strict instructions to sort the matter out."**

**"Sort? In what way, sort? **

**"She says we probably need closure of some sort. I never gave you that, but I want to now."**

**Mercury picked up her napkin and began twisting it. That sounded ominous. Like he wanted to exorcise her from his life too, but he'd already done that. "She said she wasn't going to let you loose with me–"**

**"That was when she didn't like me." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. **

**"And she does now?"**

**"I think it's not so much that she likes me now, but that I convinced her my intentions were genuine." He paused as the waitress approached with their drinks, placing Mercury's bottle and chilled glass at her elbow before bestowing Frank with a bright smile and a sweating glass of bourbon.**

**"Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?" she asked and Mercury's eyes narrowed. It wasn't what she said, but the way she said it. **

**"Yes, thank you, Natasha," he said, dismissing her.**

**Mercury watched the waitress leave them, then turned on Frank. "You know her?" she asked.**

**"Who? The waitress? She introduced herself when I arrived."**

**I'll bet she did, Mercury thought. "What have you been telling Stacey?" **

**"Believe me, I was doing all the listening." **

**That sounded like Stacey. "You still haven't told me why you left, Frank."**

**He sat up straighter, closing his coat over his chest, his eyes solemn and, she believed, sincere. "You spoke of choices before. Ten years ago, I considered I had no choice but to do what I did. I realized that the FBI could offer me something that being a lawyer couldn't. I was made aware of the sacrifices I would have to make and I was prepared to make them."**

**"Don't you think I deserved to know why I, too, had to make those sacrifices? I loved you, Frank! I even told you so. I never let you doubt it. And yet–"**

**"I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to leave you behind but I couldn't take you with me. I had to erase Frank Donovan, the law student, and become someone else. That meant all ties with him–"**

**"Ms Aldair?" A large woman, dressed in a floral silk ensemble that made her look larger still, approached their table, separating them. Her perfume was overpowering and Mercury pushed back slightly in her chair. "It is!" The woman turned around and addressed the man at her side. "Benton! I was right. It is Mercury Aldair. How wonderful. My husband and I just love your play, don't we Benton? Seen it three times already. And we promised to take our daughter when she's in town next month."**

**Mercury nodded and smiled and said thank you and wished the woman would leave.**

**"I have to say, I'm a big fan," the woman continued. "And I've been reading about you in the papers lately. Shame about that horrible man who's been causing you grief though. Saw you on Letterman, and I could see you were upset by it all. Didn't she look upset, Benton?" She swung around to get her husband's confirmation.**

**The man with her grinned, his teeth too large for his thin features. "Frank Donovan was his name, Thelma. I remember because I thought that Letterman fellow said 'Frankie Avalon'. You know how much I like to bop to Frankie."**

**"That you do, Benton." His wife nodded sagely.**

**"And I remember thinkin'," Benton continued, "that I never would have guessed he'd break a lady's heart. But it weren't him. It was some no good for nothin' Donovan." He shook his head sadly.**

**Thelma swung back to Mercury, leaning closer. "Don't you mind Benton, love. He's in one of his rambling moods. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I've got here this nice menu from the restaurant and I was hoping you might autograph it for me and then I can remember this day and this lovely moment of meeting you. 'To Thelma, my biggest fan' would be nice."**

**Thelma flapped the menu at Mercury and waited, looking hopeful. Mercury had no pen but glanced at Frank, her lips twitching. "Frank, you wouldn't have a pen, would you? I've heard Rock'n'Roll stars always come prepared with their pens wet. For signing autographs, that is."**

**Frank glowered at her and pulled a pen out of the interior pocket of his coat, thrusting it at her. Thelma didn't pick up on the innuendo, merely bobbing a thank you at Frank and watched Mercury avidly as she signed the menu.**

**"Oooo, thank you, Ms Aldair. You've made my day. And Benton's. Our next tickets are booked for June 22. Maybe that night you might say a little hello to Benton and me and my daughter, Jessica."**

**"I'll try," Mercury said, making a mental note to inform Publicity.**

**"Well, thank you again. I'll leave you now with your nice young man. Real looker, isn't he? You'll want to hang onto this one, you being so lovely and he being so handsome. Make a picture pair, you do. Oh, but me and my mouth! Whatever must you think of me? I must get back to my lunch. I'm having the 'Franks in a Blank'. Have you tried one? Mighty tasty it is. I could put my mouth around one all day, any day."**

**Thelma smiled hugely at Frank, bobbing her head again, and then, rounding up her husband, returned to her table. **

**Mercury stared at Frank who had gone a deathly shade of pale. "Are you imagining what I'm imagining?" she asked him.**

**"No! I am not going there." His voice was strangled and she could barely hear his answer.**

**Mercury stared a moment longer, then doubled up in laughter, her hand clasped over her mouth to smother the noise. Her eyes watered from the effort of getting herself under control. She finally threw her head back, swiping the tears and taking deep breaths. She looked back at Frank who had drained the last of his bourbon, his eyes fixed on her, and Mercury was reminded of a deer speared by headlights. She snorted then broke into laughter again, blinking more tears from her eyes.**

**"Oh hell, I so needed that," she whispered. "Thank you Thelma. Thank you very much."**

**The waitress noticed Frank's empty glass and arrived to enquire if he needed a refill. Frank waved it at her, nodding his head numbly, and when she took it from him, Mercury noticed her hand touch his deliberately. **

**Get a grip, girl, she thought. Just because you think the man is as sexy as all hell, doesn't mean every woman's out to get him. **

**The waitress was passed by another, arriving with their meal. The platter was overflowing with succulent and appetizing crustaceans, but Mercury's interest in it was nil. Frank didn't seem in a hurry to sample it either. Silence stretched between them and she took a sip of her water to avoid eye contact with him. Despite the liberating effect of Thelma's departing statement, Mercury felt her nerves beginning to tighten again. They never had awkward silences like this between them. Silences usually meant their lips were busy elsewhere. Mercury stole a glance at his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips against her skin, their skill in pleasuring, exploring every inch of her as if she were the meal. She swallowed and struggled for something to say.**

**"Eat, will you Frank! This food is too good to waste." **

**He glowered at her lame command but selected a piece of cracked crab. He handed it to her and she took it without thinking. Pulling out a piece of meat, she popped it into his mouth, then watched him chew on it slowly.**

**She took a breath, arresting her fascination and cutting into the tension. "So, what can you tell me about your career with the FBI... or is your life classified now?" She dug out another piece of crab and fed that one to him too. **

**"A lot of it is." He ignored her noise of derision, utterly serious. "I can tell you about it in general terms only."**

**She waved a hand to give him the go ahead to continue.**

**"After graduating from Quantico, I spent the first few years in and out of the country. The work was everything I wanted it to be. Mentally and physically challenging, exhausting even, but it helped me to come to terms with leaving... you." She watched him place his fingers around the dainty vase in the center of their table and toy with it.**

**"I realize that you would have wanted to know of my plans," he said, and started to rotate the vase slowly between his fingers. "You might even have offered to wait for me to finish my training, but you wouldn't have waited five or so years, and I wouldn't have expected you to."**

**"The way you–" she began, needing to remind him of that night.**

**He nodded. "I know. It was new ground to me, Mercury. You were new ground to me. What I had before you and after you was the norm for me – the fight for survival, the distance maintained in personal relationships, getting the job done no matter the consequences. What I had with you... a woman I could trust, someone I could let down my defenses with... it was–" He stopped as if he couldn't find the words. "We were simpatico. I didn't know where I stopped and you began."**

**Mercury was amazed at his eloquence. She remembered a raw youth who was abrupt almost to the point of rudeness, but who made up for his verbal reticence with gestures and heated reactions, both in temper and in passion. Her hand shook slightly as she passed him the third piece of crab.**

**The waitress returned with his drink and Mercury wondered how many bourbons that was now. He showed no sign of intoxication. He hadn't drunk much at all when she knew him and something had changed that. He smiled and absently thanked the waitress, who she gave him a breathy 'you're welcome' before leaving.**

**"I'm now based in D.C. and travel a lot," he continued, "though only locally on the East Coast. I'm younger than most of my peers which is sometimes a problem." He washed the crab down with a mouthful of his drink. "It's easier for me to be a loner, get the job done, go home to an empty apartment or onto the next assignment. As a result, I'm still lousy at relationships."**

**"Marcie?" She had to ask.**

**"Marcie is a good example." He shook his head as if in regret. "I'm settled in what I'm doing now. I'm good at it. I'm in my thirties and thinking I might be able to juggle a commitment. But I can't make it work. Marcie didn't work out either." He took the empty crab shell from her plate and tossed it into the bowl provided and selected a shrimp, cracking it open before handing it to her.**

**"What happened to her?" Mercury pulled out the shrimp meat, cut it in half and fed him a piece. **

**He raised his right brow and smiled as he chewed. She had to smile back. She loved that brow. **

**"You happened to her," he said. "That last report about a supposed 'love-child' was the straw that broke that camel's back."**

**"I didn't say that. They weren't my words." She selected an oyster from the platter for herself, dropped it on her plate and absently pushed it around with a finger.**

**He held up a hand at her protest. "I know what the tabloids are like, and so does Marcie. That didn't stop her from having a gutful of your little smear campaign though." He touched her hand while she played with the oyster. "With your resourcefulness, I could have used you on some of my missions overseas." **

**He smiled while he said it, but she was unsure whether it was a compliment or not, so she let it pass. "What were they like? Your assignments. Dangerous?" **

**She handed him the second piece of shrimp, but it was smaller than the other and his lips closed over her fingers to receive it, warm and velvety firm. The sensation sent a shockwave down her arm into her lower body, grabbing her heart on the way. With it came the recognition that they had fallen into their old routine of his selecting the food and her feeding him. She pulled her hand away sharply, her fingertips wet from his mouth and still tingling. **

**Looking away, she quickly washed her fingers in the water bowl and balled them in her lap. She glanced at him again to see if he had shared her revelation but he was chewing thoughtfully, looking into the distance. Mercury felt he was far away, seeing or remembering things, but she could get no sense of how the memories were affecting him. The man she knew always had an expressive face, shuttering from wariness to temper, passion to satisfaction. This older Frank could blank his expression at will. **

**"Enough about me," he said. "All I'm doing here is feeding your media machine."**

**"I'm not pumping you for information to use against you, Frank." She frowned, annoyed by the accusation.**

**"Are you going to tell me what prompted all of that?" he asked. "The newspaper reports? The TV interview?"**

**"Seeing you," she said. "Being manhandled by you. Isn't that enough?"**

**"I was attacked first," he reminded her.**

**"That was shock at hearing your name, seeing you across the room on the arm of another woman. It was as if those years hadn't passed and I was still reacting to your defection like it was yesterday. I saw red." She gripped the side of the table with both hands to stop their trembling. "You were the one in control that night. And then you walked out the door. Again."**

**"So your reply to that was character assassination?"**

**"Was any of it untrue?"**

**"Mercury," he said, closing the distance between them, his face grim. "I need to know. This 'love-child' thing. It's definitely a fiction the press cooked up?"**

**His eyes were alive with anxiety. Was he not only unable to build on relationships, but fearful of fatherhood? Something curled within her, shriveling her hopes. "Stacey's second child is her godson and was the child of very dear friends of hers," she said. "He was born one month after my nephew Ricky and orphaned six months later and Stacey and Owen were able to adopt him. A tragedy that they could turn into a happy ending."**

**Frank sat back, visibly relaxed. The waitress used that as her cue to move forward and enquire whether she could help him in any way and Mercury was beginning to tire of the woman's constant attention. Frank asked for a side order of green peppercorns. She hadn't touched her oyster yet, and that was why. She always sprinkled a few fresh peppercorns onto them to enhance the taste. He remembered, while she had forgotten to order them earlier. **

**But his thoughtfulness wasn't going to get him off the hook. "What are you afraid of?" Mercury asked, her voice sharp. "That I was going to hit you for maintenance? Worse still, encumber you with an unwanted child?" She didn't try to hide her bitterness.**

**"You don't know what you're talking about."**

**"I think I do. I think I'm looking at a coward here. You talk of being ready for commitment now. What rubbish! You never caught on, Frank, that a career, success, are nothing without someone to share them with, whether that be a partner or children to follow in your footsteps. Someone to make coming home a worthwhile and wonderful thing. I come home to an empty apartment at midnight most days of the week and I hate it. I'd give up Broadway any day for a man who loved me or a child who needed me."**

**She looked away, close to tears again. She blinked them hastily away and noticed a young couple at a table near them. They were obviously in love, their hands meeting across the table, eyes only for each other. The woman was gazing at her man as if he were a god. He put a hand to her cheek and she turned to press her lips into his palm. A soft sound of distress escaped Mercury's throat.**

**"Why are you still there?" Frank asked.**

**She dragged her attention back to him. "What are you talking about?" Momentarily, she saw him as the youth she loved – the long hair, the chiseled beard, aroused eyes gazing into hers, then she blinked and the memory was gone. **

**"Why are you still pursuing a career if it doesn't make you happy?" he repeated.**

**"Isn't it obvious?" She held her hands out wide. "I don't have either of those things."**

**"Why not? You're a beautiful, talented and desirable woman, Mercury. Why don't you have a man to come home to?"**

**She gaped at him. The realization hit her so hard, she was amazed he hadn't picked up on it himself. She had no man because the only one she wanted sat opposite her asking unanswerable questions. "I have to go," she said, hastily pushing back her chair. **

**He stood also, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to face him. "Why don't you have a man?"**

**She watched him, her eyes wide and hurting, but said nothing.**

**"Sit down," he said. "We're attracting attention." He pulled down on her wrist and she sat without resistance, still shell-shocked. "Mercury, if it's because of me, I'm sorrier than I can possibly say. If my hurting you has flawed the way you view other men, then I'm every kind of heel imaginable. But I can't change the past." He leaned forward again, pushing the seafood platter to the side. "Give me the chance to move past it."**

**"What do you mean?" She looked at the food, rather than at him, anything to avoid reading more into his eyes than was there.**

**The waitress came back with a dainty bowl of peppercorns and placed it in front of Frank, then lingered. Mercury was gratified to note that he ignored her, not taking his eyes from herself until Natasha finally left. Picking up a spoon, he dropped three peppercorns onto her oyster. Not less, not more, but exactly three. He remembered. **

**"I'll be remaining in New York," he said, apparently unaware he had completed their little ritual, "until the court case you tried to torpedo is over. Thanks to you, I'm not wanted in the courtroom anymore, so I'll have a lot of free time on my hands. We could get together–"**

**Her body went rigid with fury. "Are you saying you want to see me while you're here? And then what, when you're ready to go back to D.C., that's it? That's the end?" She had extreme difficulty in restraining herself from throwing the peppercorn bowl at his head. Her hand got as far as closing over it, ready for the pitch. "I can't believe this! You are calmly suggesting to me that we pick up where we left off and see what happens? 'Oh, but by the way, when I have to leave for D.C., I'll catch you on the next round.' Is that it, Frank?"**

**"That's not what I meant!" He rocked back in his seat. "Shit, Stacey's no help at all."**

**"What's Stacey got to do with anything?"**

**He leaned forward again, hunching his shoulders and rolling his neck. He was feeling the pain and she could only be glad. **

**"She tried to give me some tips in handling her 'mercurial' sister," he said. "I told her I wanted to smooth things out between us somehow. She felt that if I had enough sense to recognize and coin your nickname but then didn't have the sense to run the first night, then I deserved the misery and so she was willing to help." He started to toy with the vase again, his eyes watching his fingers rather than meet her gaze.**

**Mercury shook her head slowly from side to side, appalled at what she was hearing. "Frank," she said, her voice softening in sorrow. "Frank... you don't need tips on how to 'handle' me. You did it beautifully for three months. What happened? What did you lose?"**

**His hands froze and he looked up, his eyes velvet brown and alive with the pain of overdue discovery. The seconds lengthened between them. "I lost you," he finally said.**

**The restaurant went quiet and all movement seemed to stop for Mercury. Her eyes didn't waver from his face as she waited for him to elaborate.**

**"I lost you," he repeated, speaking slowly as if in shock. "I lost... your unconditional acceptance, your quirky humor, my safety net from a fucked up life. I gave away what made me whole and protected."**

**Mercury stared at him.**

**"I've thrown away ten years of my life, haven't I?" he asked and she actually heard his disillusionment.**

**Mercury took a quick breath and nodded. "Yes. In a way, you have. But, I guess it depends on what you do with the next ten years that will tell you if it was a waste."**

**Letting his head fall into his hand, he rubbed his eyes as if they pained him. For the first time, Mercury realized that he wasn't the bad guy here, he was just a misguided one. He truly believed he'd made the best decision, not knowing that a career was small compensation for two halves losing their whole. **

**He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "I...I want you back," he said simply.**

**Mercury let out the breath she had been holding. Could she really believe her ears, and if so, could she believe him? "Say that again. I don't think I heard you right."**

**"I need you back," he amended. "I screwed up what I had, without knowing it, but if there's any chance of having it back... I want it."**

**This was it. The moment with which to crush him. Her payback. It would be so easy. But she remembered the insecure hungry youth that she had fallen in love with, and sadly, pathetically, had never fallen out of love. "I'm not going to leave myself open to another fall, Frank. Once was enough. There are dozens of reasons why I can't do it. When you leave New York, I can't go with you."**

**"Why not?" **

**"I need to be damned sure about a man before I throw away what I have. I need to be assured that I'll be replacing it with something more important. And you don't have a good track record. The only lure that will take me from my career path is marriage and a family, Frank. Believe it or not, that's all I want." **

**And if that doesn't scare you away, nothing will.**

**"And if I can give you that?" He leaned over the table, his hands clasped on its surface in front of her. **

**In hope? she wondered.**

**"Are you serious?"**

**"Shit, Mercury!" He thumped his fist on the table, rattling the plates and silverware. "I'm no good at this."**

**"Then learn. Fast!"**

**He took a deep breath. "Give me time. Let me woo you. You never had that from me. Flowers, dates, picnics in the park. The whole ball-game. I couldn't afford it then, but I want to now."**

**She was a fool, she knew it. She was actually considering his plea. She had everything to gain if he could do it this time around, but she had her sanity to lose if he couldn't. It was a huge risk for her, but she'd gambled before – on him, on 'Magical Dreams'. Maybe this time, he could come through for her like her musical had. **

**"Ms Aldair..." The maitre d' was standing at her elbow. She hadn't even heard him approach.**

**"Yes, Tony?"**

**"Is there a problem?" He was glowering at Frank, disapproval evident in his rigid stance and lack of subservience toward the other man. **

**"We're fine, thanks. Are we disturbing the other patrons?"**

**"Not at all, Ms Aldair. We are always happy to have you here, but if any of your... guests are displeased with our establishment, it is my duty to correct that displeasure."**

**"There's no problem, Tony. Thank you." **

**"Nevertheless, I will send Natasha to attend to your every need."**

**Before leaving them, Tony signaled for the waitress who had been fawning over Frank. **

**Feeling snappy as she watched Natasha walk eagerly toward them, Mercury turned on Frank. "What makes you think I want to date a Fed. anyway, Frank? That's got to be worse than a lawyer." **

**He pulled back as if she'd slapped him, his face fierce with anger.**

**"Can I help you, sir?" Natasha asked.**

**Frank held Mercury's gaze before leaning back in his chair and breaking the connection. He smiled warmly at the waitress. "Maybe you can, Natasha. If I were a lawyer, would you go out with me?"**

**The waitress quickly recovered from her initial surprise, dropped her eyes and smiled. "Why, yes, I would."**

**"And if I told you I was an FBI agent, would you still go out with me?"**

**Natasha looked a little confused now, but she still nodded. "Of course! What you do for a living is of no consequence." She tossed her hair. "You're a very attractive man. Any woman would."**

**"Thank you, Natasha. That will be all."**

**The waitress frowned at the dismissal and walked away slowly, looking back with uncertainty.**

**"What I do for a living is of no consequence, I believe she said," Frank said, the boast of righteousness in his voice.**

**"You noticed!" Mercury accused.**

**Frank leaned forward again and stretched out a hand to her face. Trailing his fingers slowly along her jaw-bone and around her chin, his thumb rubbing over her lips as he went. "Noticed... what?" **

**"Noticed she was..." On the upsweep, he used the back of his hand and her whole cheek tingled from its warmth. "... all over you..." Mercury was finding it hard to breathe. "...ever since I got here." **

**His fingertips changed tactics and danced along her brow, causing her eyelids to lower. "What does that have to do with anything?"**

**"She'd say... anything... she thought you'd want to hear…" Mercury's eyes darted away but kept coming back to his, drawn by their now molten message. "So... it was a safe bet..." His fingers slid under her hair and massaged the tension in her neck and her shoulders dropped with relief. "...to bring her in..." A little gentle pressure from his hand brought her closer to his descending mouth and she breathed in the tanginess of his after-shave. "...to confirm your point," Mercury finished, her lips mere inches from his.**

**Her eyes darted to his then lowered again, shocked by the blaze she saw in them. She didn't know why he was doing this, but she couldn't let it happen. This wasn't going to heal wounds, only renew them. She fought the final pressure he exerted, the one that would allow him to capture her lips and guarantee her battle lost. They remained frozen inches apart until finally his hand slid from behind her neck.**

**He pulled back. "This isn't working."**

**"No, it isn't," she said. **_**Yes it is!**_

**"What do I have to do, Mercury?" He held out his hands to her. "To make you realize I'm sincere here. That I truly want us to work."**

**She carefully folded her hands in her lap and then studied them. Could she trust him? She so wanted to. "Commit to me, Frank," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "Make me feel there is no room for doubt in your mind that you can do this." She raised her eyes to his, daring him to dissemble. "Can you do it?"**

**"I want to try."**

**"Can you do it?"**

**"I think I can."**

**"Can you do it?"**

**"Yessss!" he hissed.**

**His eyes roamed her face, touching on every feature. Leaning forward, he put a hand behind her neck and this time she let him bring her face to his, touching her lips with his, softly, then pressing harder and finally drawing her in. Pushing his fingers through her hair, he held her lips to his and kissed her deeply. Her body swayed toward him, heavy and unwilling to remain upright on the chair.**

**"I need this more than anything," he whispered, lifting his head. "Tell me what I have to do and I'll do it." He kissed her again. The softness of his lips was fleeting as the strength of his passion flared and spread through her, making her body want him and damn the consequences.**

**Something else had changed. The Frank she knew had never been demonstrative in public. This Frank had already kissed her in a crowded room, in front of a bevy of shoppers and now in an exclusive restaurant. The young Frank hid his passion behind closed doors. The man with her now didn't have that self-consciousness. She wondered how far the changes went. **

**Eyes closed, Mercury pulled back her head to whisper against his mouth. "Then meet my family."**

**He waited a heart-beat, but no more. "And if I do?"**

**"I remember how you wouldn't let yourself get drawn into that side of my life, Frank. I should have seen the warning signs but I didn't." She turned her head so that he could trace her jaw with his mouth this time. "If you do, then you're on probation. And if you leave for D.C. before I've made my decision, you're history." **

**He worked his way back to her mouth then lipped her chin on his way down to burying his face in her neck, the soft rasp of his goatee making her gasp. "Can we do one thing first before I do?" he groaned softly.**

**"I think we'll have to," she breathed back. "I've got a feeling Tony's going to throw us out for indecent behavior."**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Standing outside the Marriott, Mercury felt the intimacy that bound them together in the restaurant slip away. The man holding her close against the tide of New Yorkers was almost a stranger to her. She didn't know this mature, self-assured version of her Frank and yet she was demanding commitment from him. Even more unbelievably, he promised it. What had seemed feasible over the lunch table now felt unreal in the push and shove on the sidewalk. **

**"How do you live here?" he asked, pulling her closer still, one arm around her waist, the other caressing her wrist. With that small gesture, he made her feel treasured and protected, at variance with her uncertainty that she could trust him.**

**She looked around, hiding her confusion. "This is my home now, and I enjoy it. Believe it or not, it grows on you." **

**He looked down at her, a small smile on his lips. "You're thinking I wouldn't like it?"**

**"I didn't say that. How long do you intend to stay in New York?" **

**"That depends on you." His eyes were gentler than she ever remembered them. "I presume you can't pack up your play and come to Washington, so I have to spend time in New York."**

**"Then you're serious? About us?"**

**He pulled her around to face him, backing up against the outer façade of the hotel. Her body sank into his and her head fell back. "You still think I'm not?"**

**She looked away, but his fingers guided her face back to his. "I don't know what to think. Yesterday, I hated you enough to condemn you on national television." **

**"And today? Now? How do you feel now?"**

**She had to smile. "Right now? Like this, I feel like I'm in heaven. But I don't know how long it will last." **

**He nodded slightly. "For me, life has never come with a guarantee. So in all honesty, I can't give you one, but can only tell you I want to be given a chance – to do it right, to make it up to you. Other than that–"**

**She sighed. "So... what now, Frank? Your place or mine?" His eyes narrowed and he released her. She regretted her flippancy, missing his heat against her body still chilled with doubts. **

**"That came out a little too glibly," he said, his voice terse. "Besides, I said I would woo you and I will. Where would you like to go?" **

**She looked around again, feeling she would need a thunderbolt to force a coherent thought from her. Rational decisions were definitely beyond her.**

**He shifted impatiently. 'You used to like going to the movies. Shall we try that?"**

**Mercury froze, remembering their hot and heavy love-making in the darkness and relative privacy of theatre back rows. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said.**

**"Why not?"**

**She hesitated. It was a fair question and demanded a fair answer. She could fabricate or be honest, neither path necessarily advisable. In the end, she chose the truth. "You never knew why I took you to the movies so much, did you?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.**

**"Because you liked seeing your movies on the big screen? I think that's the common reason."**

**She shook her head and examined the button on his jacket, suddenly finding it fascinating. "I liked..." She took a deep breath. "...the thrill of making out with you in public, Frank." Now that she had started, the rest came out in a rush. "You were always so buttoned up when we went to parties, but when the lights went down in the theatre, I could always let you loose. I thrived on the power that gave me." She sneaked a peak at him through her lashes to see him with a huge grin on his face.**

**"And you're not game enough today? Is that it?"**

**"I feel I hardly know you anymore, let alone be in a position to... accost you."**

**"What if I want to be... accosted?" He was still smiling and it somehow eased her embarrassment.**

**"I'm not sure I could−"**

**"What if I promise to be a gentleman? Would you go then?"**

**"I..." She was still tempted to refuse, knowing he was taking it as a joke while she was seriously tempted. But she couldn't think of an alternative. "All right, the movies then. There's a theatre nearby that's playing that new one with the young actor I was talking about on Letterman in it. It's his first major movie." **

**"This is the guy who's allegedly playing in your so-called new play?" He frowned down at her. "I understood 'Nude on a Chair' was a fabrication for my benefit. Was I wrong?"**

**"No," she hastily assured him, "but the actor's real enough. I might as well get your opinion on him. John is trying to sign him up for another project of his, but these movie deals keep getting in the way. Pity. He could do well on Broadway, and as a performing medium, it's much more challenging for an actor."**

**Frank wound her arm around his in that way he had that kept her close and guided her back onto the busy sidewalk. She was molded against his side and able to walk in step with him, matching his rhythm. They always moved well together – a perfect fit of angles and curves.**

**Their bodies might have been comfortable together but her mind spun for something safe to say, some light-hearted conversation to ease the new awkwardness again. "How long have you known Marcie?" she asked, then swore under her breath. What was safe about asking your ex-lover about his current lover? Fool! She saw his brows knit together and couldn't blame his feeling confused. **

**"Is it important?" he asked. **

**"No, I was just... curious." Bird-brained, more like it.**

**"Only a couple of months," he said. "Or, do you mean, how **_**well**_** do I know her?"**

_**Damn!**_** He was reading her mind. "Forget it," she said. "It was a stupid question."**

**"How long have you had **_**your**_** personal protector?"**

**She swung her gaze from the heads in front of her to look at him in confusion. "If you mean Stacey−"**

**"I was thinking of John Kremzow, actually."**

**"What makes you think of him like that?"**

**He was still ****looking ahead. "Just a feeling."**

**Was he jealous? He was so damned poker-faced, she couldn't tell. If he were, it would have more impact for her than impassioned words spoken over a restaurant table. Promises were merely words. Jealousy was an emotion he couldn't fake. If she could tease some sign of it from him, she would feel more secure, more capable of taking the risk.**

**"John's up there with Stacey as the chief benefactors in my life," she said. "Stacey keeps me sane when I need the proverbial belt over the head, and John is the one who gave my career propulsion, whereas previously I had just been marking time. He's very protective of his investment – of me – and he's worried about where you come in."**

**"Now is the moment when you say you're just good friends." He gave her a quick sideways glance.**

**"We're more than good friends, Frank. You haven't been listening." **

**She felt him tense against her, his body, this close, unable to hide what his face could. It had been that easy. He either hadn't learned or she hadn't lost her touch. He walked the rest of the way without speaking, but Mercury was unsure which emotion kept him silent – anger or jealousy. She let her mind examine and enjoy both options.**

**Arriving at the theatre, Mercury walked up to the ticket office and rummaged in her bag for her purse and credit card. She slid it out before she realized Frank had handed over the cash and was already receiving the tickets. **

**She must have looked stunned because he arched a brow, saying, "You object to my paying for you?"**

**"No." She shook her head quickly. "It was habit, I guess. I always paid."**

**His mouth twisted. "I never had the money then." He sounded bitter about it but she had enjoyed spoiling him. "I can afford a few luxuries now. The government's tight, but it's not that tight." **

**He took her elbow and steered her inside. Mercury eyed the confectionery counter and the huge hotbox of popcorn at its center. She glanced away quickly but looked back when she heard a soft rumble of laughter from him.**

**"If I'm to keep my promise about being a gentleman, we'd best forgo the popcorn," he suggested.**

**A hot flush flooded her at the memory generated by his words – her giggling, deliberately dropping popcorn onto her lap and his head between her knees, sucking and licking her skin.**

**"Though you **_**are**_** wearing a short skirt," he continued, his mouth against her ear, breath warm and moist. She leaned into him, almost unable to support herself. "Come to think of it, you **_**always**_** wore a short skirt to the movies." She ignored him, concentrating on keeping moving and not falling at his feet. **

**They were ushered into the semi-darkened theatre where the opening scenes had already begun and Frank guided her toward the back. Her steps slowed when she realized where he was going. They always used the back seat, where, out of the way of watchful eyes, they tormented each other's bodies and tested the limits of public decency.**

**He was almost pushing her ahead and, giving in, Mercury sat on the edge of the seat he chose for her, nerves taut. Frank lowered himself beside her and took her hand, holding it against his thigh. She held her body rigid, her heart racing. Her tongue played along the line of her bottom lip, recalling running her fingertips up and down his thigh, then her nails, a hand finding its way between his legs...**

**She sucked in a breath and looked at him, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe he wasn't feeling it too – that charged need to torture each other with hands and mouths to painful frustration and then release – but he was lounging in his seat, seemingly comfortable and relaxed, watching the screen. While the movie played, Mercury became more and more conscious of the hardness and warmth of his leg under her hand until she could endure it no more. On the pretext of tucking her hair behind her ear, she slipped her hand from his and then thrust it into her lap, trying to concentrate on the show.**

**He breathed into her ear. "Where's this actor you want me to see?" **

**She almost groaned aloud. "I think we missed him. He... he was on a horse on the hills, but we're past that." She didn't give a damn about the actor, too conscious of Frank beside her, his warmth, his scent, his shoulder against hers. **

**She had no idea what they were doing here, not understanding why, having been lovers once, they had to start from the beginning like this. She was analyzing every move he made as if setting up a counter-move. It had been so much easier when they were younger. She wanted him then. She attacked him then. **

**If that's what it took to get past this, then so be it. She placed her hand back on his leg, experimenting with the sensation again. **

**"Look! Here he comes," she whispered. "He's supposed to face off the good guys in their camp. He's the one that got knocked off the horse just then."**

**"Pretty poor horseman," Frank said. **

**"I don't think even **_**you **_**could keep your seat in that situation. He's good at swinging that scimitar though, isn't he?" **

**"Is that what John wants him to do on stage?"**

**"No. I just think he looks good with a scimitar." Mercury said the words without thinking, and felt him tense under her hand. He had that same tautness when they were walking downtown, talking about John. Frank **_**was**_** jealous. Of her interest now in this young actor. She smiled into the darkness. She found a weakness and had every intention of capitalizing on it.**

**"That accent is very heavy," he said, and she was sure of it now. Frank was finding fault with the actor. **

**Mercury glanced at him, hoping the darkness hid her triumph. "He's getting voice coaching, but I find his accent very sexy. I told him he can practice all he likes around John, but when he's with me he has to go… **_**au naturel**_**." Her last words were a heavy breath into his ear.**

**He pulled back sharply, his eyes fixed on hers and she considered another little push wouldn't hurt. "That's when I found out he's quite the flirt and very good at innuendos." She gave a soft practiced giggle. "Must be something they learn from birth in those hot dry countries, not like here where all the men hide their emotions or fight them."**

**Frank swung his gaze back to the screen but Mercury saw the muscle in his jaw jerk. **_**Bulls eye! **_

**"He's a bit too intense," he said, and she was disappointed his voice was still non-committal. **

_**He's better at this than he used to be.**_

**"The movie critic now, are we? Besides, you used to be intense." **

**She watched his jaw clench again, then he slowly turned his head to her. Even in the semi-dark, she saw the flare in his now black eyes, holding hers and moving closer. His head descended slowly, making her first ache with the suspense and then strain to close the gap. Just when their lips should touch, he feinted to the side and his mouth feathered her ear, saying, "If you want intense, what are we doing here?"**

**He was right and he knew what she was doing. She suddenly tired of the game and felt dispirited. She hoped it was just PMS because she was sick of the roller coaster ride her emotions were taking this week. Shock at seeing him again after ten years, wonder at still wanting him after all that time and then thinking if she could hurt him as he had hurt her it would make the need go away. Now she had fallen into her routine of goading him which always triggered the explosion that culminated in savage, satisfying sex. Only this time it was different. This time he had seen through her ruse and quelled it.**

**He lifted her hand from his thigh and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers, changing the rules on her again. She drew a quick breath, feeling the jolt all the way to her toes. He didn't stop there, moving his lips to her wrist, stroking with his tongue. Her body shuddered and the image of the fierce desert warrior on the screen blurred into Frank's somber face, his eyes heavy and dark with promise. **_**God!**_** It was the look from his painting. His eyes held hers, his mouth pushing aside her sleeve, teeth grazing, instinctively following her pulse higher. She panted an unconvincing 'Don't Frank' which he ignored, his hand reaching out to take her other wrist. He gently pulled to turn her in her seat and guided her hand to his hip.**

**"What you do with that hand," he murmured, his mouth now on her lips, "is entirely up to you." She sank onto his chest, her body igniting under the onslaught of his kiss. She accepted his demand, drawing in his tongue and capturing it. She drank in his flavor, his passion and gloried in it.**

**Breaking for air, sanity asserted itself. "You promised you were going to be a gentleman." Her hand trembled against the hardness of his hip.**

**"That's true," he murmured, "but no one said anything about you behaving like a lady." He buried his face in her neck, the rasp of his beard sending fresh shockwaves down her body.**

**She was so tempted, so charged with a frustrated energy that she could barely resist the urge to grab him, but she felt reluctant, almost shy of doing it. Frank had no such inhibitions, unbuttoning her blouse and exploring her collarbone with his tongue. Tired of fighting herself, she wanted to wield power of her own. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers down his chest, thrilling to the feel of his nipple harden through the fine silk shirt he wore. Her hand outlined a rib and then smoothed across his waist and down his thigh. She had both hands in his lap now and she felt him shift in his seat, getting more comfortable or giving her better access. Her heart pounded against her chest. Her objective was so close, but she resolved to tantalize him more, refusing to give him what he wanted. **

**His lips brushed the lace covering her breast. "When are you going to stop testing me?" he asked.**

**The anticipation in her body fled as if she'd been doused with cold water. She pulled back and his hands reached out to recapture her but she struggled against him, pushing herself away.**

**"I know what you're doing, Mercury," he said, grabbing her again and holding her still. She saw the puzzled anger in his eyes and looked away. "These attempts to get my attention, antagonize me, and generate jealousy. Now you're playing hard to get–"**

**"I was not–!"**

**"Can you at least be honest with me? You always played me. Sometimes I let you, sometimes I fought it but I always understood it. I know how it feels by now, and you're playing me again."**

**"I...I... We should go," she said, humiliated.**

**"I'll take you home." His voice was clipped with irritation and disappointment.**

**She nodded, buttoning her blouse with shaking fingers. She held her head high as she negotiated the row of seats, angry at herself for being the cause and angry at him for making her feel this ambivalent. His hand closed over her elbow, guiding her down the aisle and out of the theatre, preventing her from hurrying away from him. **

**Blinking into the harsh sunlight, she pulled her arm from his. She wouldn't be surprised if she had a myriad of bruises on her skin after the manhandling she endured from him today. "We're never going to get a taxi," she said tersely. "Let's start walking."**

**"Mercury! Stop this!" he ordered, rounding on her.**

**"Stop what?"**

**"**_**This! **_** Whatever it is you're doing." He held out his hands in confusion, then threw them in the air as she shook her head.**

"**Not now, Frank. Not here."**

**He stared at her, then ushered her ahead of him as they joined the tide of pedestrians in the direction of her home. It took them nearly three blocks before Frank could flag a cab down and Mercury was feeling chilled and unhappy, despite the early summer sunshine. When he opened the rear passenger door of the cab, she slid along the back seat and wedged herself into the corner, turning to stare out the window as he moved close to her and gave the cabbie her address.**

**"Talk to me," he coaxed, his temper reined. **

**"How do you know where I live?" she asked, then bit her lip at the mutinous sound of her voice. She knew she was acting like a child, but worse, she couldn't stop herself.**

**"You can't guess?"**

**"Used your connections, I suppose. You were insufferable when you were younger, but having such power at your fingertips now–"**

**"Stop, Mercury. Listen to yourself."**

**"I am! I **_**can't**_** stop. You drive me crazy." She took several deep breaths to calm herself. "All right. I'm confused. I'm afraid–"**

**"Of what?"**

**"I don't know... Of... of never getting back what we had. Of getting back what we had and losing it again–"**

**"You're not making sense."**

**"I don't **_**have**_** to make sense. My world has been turned upside down from the moment you walked into the theatre last Sunday. I've gone from forgetting you to hating you to wanting you again in the space of five days. **_**Shit!**_**" She swore at giving him even that admission.**

**His eyes bored into hers. "Why fight it then? I'm not."**

**"Why? It's easy for you! You've got nothing to lose. I get this feeling you're just picking me up off the side of your road and forging on, but for me… I'm standing at two polar routes here, and one of them is looking very dark and uncertain."**

**His face shut down on her and he turned to stare out the cab window. "I've looked death in the eye and it was easier than this." **

**"I can't even imagine what that's like, but then you never gave me the chance." She put a tentative hand on his knee. "What was it like, Frank? I want to know what you've been doing with your life without me." **

**He didn't move.**

**Grabbing his arm, Mercury shook him. "If there is any hope for us in moving forward together, you have to talk to me. **_**Share**_** with me. Your past and your future. I don't even know what your plans are. I think you want to include me in them, but you're not giving me any definites, **_**nothing,**_** to build my own plans on."**

**He turned back to her, but his eyes were unfocussed, a faraway look clouding them. "I don't know how to reassure you other than to show you, and the only way I can do that is if you let me. Let me get close. Let me into your life." He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, they burned into her heart. "You want to know about my past? You don't need to know about my work, not yet anyway. But I can tell you that my life was a wasteland without you. I never forgot you and I never stopped berating myself for the way I pushed you aside. But I don't regret joining the FBI and no attachments was not only a condition, it was a necessity." **

**Mercury bent her head, wanting his honesty even though it was painful to her. To be considered an 'attachment' seemed callous. He put his hand across the back of the seat and gently drew her into the crook of his arm. She didn't fight it, wanting the warm contact against the cold invading her body.**

**"When I saw you again," he said, "I wanted nothing more than to feel you against me again. When I kissed you in that back room... if we had been alone, or if I could have dragged you somewhere private, I would have made love to you then and you couldn't have stopped me." Her body stirred at his evocative words. He rubbed the top of her head with his chin and then pressed his mouth into her temple. "When I saw you on Letterman, I wanted to lean into the television set and drag you out of it into my arms. Then in Macy's... It was nearly my undoing. Kissing you like that... I was courting indecent behavior."**

**"Why did you do it? Kiss me, I mean."**

**"Because for the first time for a long time, my head followed my body. I decided there and then, that I needed you in my life again. That I wouldn't be whole again if I couldn't get you to forgive me, to want me as much as I wanted you." He kissed an eyelid shut and she sighed into him. **

**"You're very brave," she whispered. "Even for a Fed." **

**"Why do you say that?" He bent to nuzzle her neck. **_**Damn! He was too good at this. **_**She knew she was being seduced but she didn't want it to stop.**

**Shutting her eyes, she marshaled some self-control. "Three days ago I was plotting your downfall."**

**He captured her lips in an exploratory kiss that she hadn't seen coming and it drove her lower into the seat. "This morning you were succeeding," he said, then came in for a deeper onslaught.**

**Mercury sat up straight, inadvertently knocking his jaw with her head as she did so. "Oh, hell! Did you get into trouble over that painting? I guess the courthouse wasn't the best place to do that, but I never meant... Well, actually, I did. I wanted you to suffer publicly but not to the detriment of–" **

**"It's not that," he said, rubbing his chin, looking pained.**

**Touching her fingers to his jaw, she frowned. She had tried to hit out at him, but she didn't want to ruin his career. "Frank! What happened this morning? Are you in trouble with your job?" **

**"No, nothing like that. Don't worry about it."**

**She cast her mind back to something he said earlier about her affecting his court case and pissing Marcie off. That was it! Her jaw clamped on the thought. His damned girlfriend. "Marcie!" she hissed before she could stop herself.**

**His eyes narrowed and she knew she'd hit the target. She turned in the seat to face him. "You were with her this morning." His face was a mask again, ready for this revelation. "You were with her last **_**night!**_**"**

**"Mercury, don't start–" She recoiled across the taxi seat putting as much distance between them as possible, flinching at the realization he couldn't deny it. "You knew I was with Marcie Sunday night. You saw us," he said, exasperation punching through.**

**"Maybe. But you just admitted you wanted **_**me **_**Sunday night," she cried, uncaring that the cabbie was getting an earful as well. "Poor Marcie. How did she feel about being second-best? Or was that all just lies before?"**

**"No!" **

**Mercury noticed the cab had pulled up at the front of her apartment building. "How do you men do it? It never ceases to amaze me how−" She wrenched at the handle of her door to release it. She had no thought of whether there was oncoming traffic or not, she just wanted out. **

**She didn't get the chance. He hauled her back with an arm wrapped like a vise around her waist, paid the cabbie and then dragged her out his side and deposited her onto the sidewalk. She fought him but she only came up against the hardness of his body and couldn't break the strength of his arms.**

**"**_**Behave**_**!" he gritted.**

**"Don't touch me! All you do is manhandle me."**

**"Nothing else works. Now, are you going to walk into this building or am I going to carry you in?"**

**Mercury stopped struggling at the threat of being embarrassed further. Tilting her head high, she marched into the foyer of the building, passing the desk duty clerk without acknowledging him. The security officer gave her a polite greeting, but she was intent on reaching the elevator as quickly as possible. She had a vague hope of Frank's giving up and leaving the building. **

**"Ms Aldair! You didn't register your guest," the duty clerk called.**

**Mercury stopped mid-stride and snapped around coming up hard against Frank who hadn't taken the hint. She weighed up the chances of Security getting rid of him for her.**

**"Don't even think about it," he murmured into her ear. "Do you want your Super to know you're being investigated by the FBI?"**

**"You wouldn't!" Her eyes flew to his.**

**"Did you care how your smear campaign was affecting me?"**

**She ignored him, bluff the better part of her valor. "He's Frank Donovan, Mort," she told the deskman as she walked back.**

**Mort eyed Frank and frowned. "Donovan, you say?" He checked his register. "But Ms Aldair, didn't you–?"**

**"Yes, I did," Mercury said, nodding her head for emphasis.**

**Mort signaled the Security officer then put his hand on the phone on his desk and looked pointedly at Frank, standing in front of the elevator. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mr Donovan. Ms Aldair gave me specific instructions not to allow you into the building and I'll call upon assistance to ensure that. Now, you can leave peaceably with Justin," he nodded at the Security officer who was approaching them, "or I make this phone call."**

**Mercury's triumph vanished when she saw Frank head back toward them, push Justin out of the way and slip his hand into his jacket. **

**"**_**Oh God! He's got a gun!" **_**she cried.**__

**Without thinking, she threw herself against his chest while Justin launched himself at Frank from behind. Mercury went down with Frank as he ducked, still holding her, rolled to the floor and resumed his feet in a fluid movement that was over before Mercury could cry out again. Enveloped by Frank's body and limbs, she was breathless from the shock of the tactic and the speed with which it happened.**

"**Frank! Don't! It's okay, Mort. Justin… You can let him in." **

**Frank pushed her behind him and thrust out a hand toward Mort, and Mercury saw that it held nothing more than his badge. **

"**Hell! I thought–" Mercury gasped.**

"**You gave me quite a turn there," Mort said, wiping his brow. "I didn't know what to think."**

**Directing a killing look at Frank, Mercury headed back to the elevator, hitting the button to call it to the ground floor. Hopefully, she could disappear inside it before he finished with the Security men. He joined her just as the elevator pinged open, his long black coat fanning behind him as he strode toward her. She swept in ahead of him. **

**"What floor?" he asked through clenched teeth.**

**She glared at him and punched the button herself, setting the elevator in motion.**

**"Grow up!" he snarled, his back to the wall. "You've been blowing hot and cold all day." He swung her around to him and her breath shortened under his touch and proximity in the elevator car. "I was under the impression that you made a decision at lunch. Can you go through with it? If not, tell me now, and I'll end it here."**

_**She didn't know!**_** "I thought I had, but you keep throwing me spin-balls." She shook her head and looked to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "What is it with us? Why is it so hard?"**

**"Because I hurt you and I'm sorry for it, but I've got to move on and I'm hoping it's **_**with**_** you, not without you." He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "You look miserable, Mercury. Is that really how I make you feel?"**

**Sighing heavily, she seemed to deflate where she stood. His stance, a mixture of indolence and defiance, attracted, rather than repelled her. "No. You can make me feel good. Better than good." **_**If I would only let you**_**.**

**"Then what's the problem?" he asked. "I'm sick of the push and pull with us. Someone has to take control and stop the fairground ride. That's what it feels like – the Big Dipper, where I'm tossed one way then pulled back the next." He sighed heavily and dropped his arms, straightening off the wall. "I can make the surrender very sweet, you know." **

**"What makes you think–?"**

**He reached for her and pulled her to him. She opened her mouth to object and his head came down, his lips capturing hers and then she didn't want to protest anymore. Sinking into the hard band of his arms, she let his fire race into her, head reeling, knees buckling, hands searching for anchorage. She grabbed his waist, and clung while her blood chased her heartbeats, but her hands weren't satisfied, wanting to feel his bare skin. Pulling the shirt from his trousers, she encountered a mesh athletic shirt and she slipped her fingers under it, smoothing her hands around his waist toward his back. She heard him grunt as if in pain and he slammed back against the wall, pulling her with him, looping her arms around his neck. Her body shuddered into his, straining for more contact and her hands were on the move again, in his hair, over his jaw, down his throat then at the buttons of his shirt, ripping them from the fabric in her haste–**

**"I'm sorry I left the restaurant," said Stacey from behind.**

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

**Donovan had forgotten the sister.**

**Mercury spun around and rammed against him, shoving him hard against the elevator car wall again. **

**"Stay there!" he ordered softly into her ear. He held her to him, hiding his arousal. She stopped struggling and sagged into him, not exactly discouraging his physical state but giving him time to marshal himself.**

**"I thought you two would be history by now," said Stacey, her voice harsh with displeasure. "I'm disappointed in you, Mercury. You're back where you started."**

**Mercury stiffened against him. "What are you doing here?" His fingers tightened on her arms and she flinched. **

**"I'm staying here, remember?"**

**"But Frank said you weren't coming back."**

**"He misunderstood me. I didn't go home. I came back here. You know that Owen and the boys aren't expecting me until tomorrow. Aren't I welcome?"**

**"Of course you are, but–"**

**"We need to talk, Mercury." The elevator door started to close, but Stacey hit the button outside to keep it open.**

**"Well, you should have stayed at the restaurant then. We had a lovely lunch and then we went to the movies." **

**"If this is the result, I can't say it was one of your best ideas."**

**Donovan let Mercury go and shrugged back into his coat, buttoning it to hide his torn shirt. "It was mine." Stacey looked him up and down and he tensed, the passion shriveling within him. **

**"I underestimated you, Frank," she said. "I had no idea things would get out of hand so quickly. Mercury's not ready for this. And I obviously misunderstood your motives back in the Marriott. We need to re-examine them in Mercury's apartment."**

**He recognized an order when he heard one. "You'll be disappointed," he said.**

**Mercury was shaking her head. "What do you mean I'm not ready for this? Look here, Stacey, Frank and I–" **

**"You're not thinking with your head at the moment," her sister interrupted. "Neither of you are. Let's take this elsewhere."**

**"Absolutely!" Mercury leaned forward and pushed the Ground Floor button. "You're obviously on your way out–"**

**"No," Stacey said, hitting her button again, preventing the door from closing. "Mort rang through to say you were on your way up. When you didn't show, I came to investigate."**

**"We hardly needed a search party," Mercury snapped. **

**"I think you were in that elevator longer than you realize." **

**Donovan was sure of it. He had been half-way to having Mercury against the elevator wall before the interruption.**

**"Stacey, let the button go. Frank and I are going out again. I'll see you later."**

**Stacey swept her gaze to him and then back to her sister, her eyes calculating. ****"Mercury, I just want to talk to you, but not here, not in an elevator." **

**"Later, Stace. Let the button go." Mercury wasn't buying it. **

**Donovan wasn't either, his interest piquing at the hint of desperation in Stacey's voice. "I believe Mercury has made her intentions clear to you," he said, stepping forward. **

**Stacey's mouth tightened and she marched into the elevator, halting toe to toe with him.**__**"I'm not going to let you do this."**

**That was enough for him. Shutting her down wasn't going to work. It only made her try harder. He was going to allow the sister this battle, but only to take the argument somewhere more private. If Stacey was going to have this 'talk' with Mercury whether they liked it or not, he preferred to be there when she did. **

**"Thirty minutes enough for you, Mrs Murchison?" he asked, using her formal title deliberately.**

**She held his look with suspicion but he knew she wasn't going to argue. It was that or nothing**_**.**_** "Thank you, Mr Donovan," she said, returning his formality.**

**"Frank," Mercury said, "this is not a good idea."**

**He looked down at her. "You were the one who said you never put off till tomorrow what you can do today." ****He touched her hand, trying to reassure her and she folded her hand over his. The soft warmth of it ignited his blood again, evidence of how little control he had over himself when near her.**

**He motioned for Stacey to leave the elevator car, but she didn't move. Lifting a brow, he stood back to guide Mercury out and she joined them once they were out in the corridor.**

**"This had better be quick, Stacey," Mercury said. "One cup of coffee quick." She**** strode up the corridor ahead of them. Donovan stayed behind, enjoying her well-shaped calves and long legs under her short skirt. He also approved of the strappy high heels she'd bought and wondered what happened to the new lingerie he paid for. He waited for Stacey to precede him, shrugging off the disapproving look she gave him.**

**Mercury opened a door half-way up the corridor and disappeared inside, pausing a moment to look back. Donovan could see she was annoyed. At him or her sister? **

**"Start the coffee, Mercury," ****Stacey called, entering after her. **

**Donovan followed, thinking, start the timer.**

**Mercury vanished into the kitchen, either not wasting time or not interested in what Stacey had to say. Either way suited him. It was better he handled the sister alone. He went to shed his coat, then remembered his ripped shirt and changed his mind. Standing in the vestibule, he took stock of the apartment, noting its compact opulence, decorated in combinations of cream and tan. He walked in further, conscious of Stacey keeping stride with him. Though not cluttered, the place looked lived in, with magazines and books scattered on several small tables, trophies and awards on the fireplace mantel and there were photographs – lots of photographs. **

**He'd bet his life there were none of him. **

**He noticed she still kept too many pillows on the sofa. The one in her old apartment used to be covered with pillows, and he would have to toss them aside before dragging her down with him…**

**"Take a seat, Frank," Stacey said, watching him closely. **

**Donovan thought twice about refusing, remembering his promise to Mercury to get to know her family. Stacey could be considered his first hurdle. Sitting down on the sofa, he forced himself to relax into its comfort, and searched for something polite to say. "I'm sorry I didn't get to meet you ten years ago," he told her.**

**"Not half as sorry as I am," she said, settling onto a large wing-backed chair opposite him. "I might have seen what Mercury missed."**

**The gloves were well and truly off. "No stretch of the imagination is going to turn that into a compliment," he replied, disguising the tug at his temper. Stacey was going to take 'interfering' to its max and he prepared himself for the onslaught.**

**"You're right," she said. "I take it Mercury has decided to forgive you?"**

**He didn't know. "You need to ask your sister that." **

**"Then let me ask you this. What have **_**you**_** personally decided to do?"**

**Here it was. The 'what are your intentions' spiel. It was understandably and damnably inevitable and he was surprised he didn't get it in the restaurant. At Marriott's, she had been willing to help him talk to Mercury but now he was getting the 'hands off' signals. It seemed Stacey had some of her sister's mercurial tendencies. **

**"I could tell you to mind your own business," he said.**

**"You can tell me all you like, **_**Mister **_**Donovan," she replied, facing him off easily, "but I'm not letting Mercury walk out that door with you. I don't know what you've been filling her head with, but it was unbelievably convincing enough to bring her around to your way of thinking. The question is whether you can deliver any of it."**

**He breathed in sharply, his muscles knotted with fury. He expelled the air, releasing some of the tension, but he was annoyed at himself for letting her get to him. **

**"Whatever my intentions, Mrs Murchison, Mercury will make her own decisions. If you are as close to her as you indicate, I'm sure she'll keep you informed."**

**"From what I saw in the elevator, it's already too late. You had your chance with her and blew it." She folded her arms across her chest. "What's to stop you blowing it again?"**

**"That **_**is **_**none of your business."**

**Stacey pursed her lips. ****"Let me tell you a story, Frank."**

**"Why would I want to hear it?" He leaned back in the sofa and laid an ankle across his leg, placing his wrist casually on the other knee, determined she should see nothing but calm.**

**"Why not? What are you afraid of?"**

**His head jerked at her bluntness. "One of us is outstaying their welcome, Mrs Murchison."**

**"I'm sure of it. Shall I continue?" **

**She was railroading him and he wasn't interested in prolonging the experience. "I don't think so." He made to rise but she reached out and stopped him with a hand on his leg.**

**"You gave me thirty minutes, remember?" Her eyes narrowed, daring him to deny her.**

**"I assumed you wanted to talk to your sister." **

**She gave an exaggerated nod. "She's next." **

**Donovan admired her tenacity. "I'm not going to stand by and let you barrage her with a **_**téte é téte**_** like this one." He looked pointedly at her hand still resting on his knee.**

**Stacey withdrew her hand. "Then I'll have to wait till you leave, won't I?" **

**She had him and they both knew it. He relaxed again, inclining his head toward her.**

**"Let me tell you my story," Stacey said, settling into the chair again, "and then we'll see what happens." She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "Many years ago, on a Thanksgiving weekend, Mercury told the family about this 'gorgeous guy' she met at college. She was painting his portrait and it was so good she was going to enter it in a major art contest. There were mixed reactions when she said it was a nude portrait and I have to admit we gave her a hard time about it. You can imagine the scene, surely?"**

_**Yes, he could.**_** That damned portrait haunted him. "I'm sure you were all highly entertained."**

**She smiled without humor. "Instead of joining in the joke, Mercury got upset. We realized she was serious about this man and we waited for further developments. Each weekend that she came home, she was full of talk about him… **_**you.**_**" **

**"This is going somewhere?" he asked. **

**"You know it is. We saw that she was besotted with you and we wanted to meet you, welcome you into the family but Mercury always had an excuse for you not being there. That surprised us. We imagined all kinds of scenarios – we weren't good enough for you, or she thought we wouldn't approve of you – it got the alarm bells ringing. Who was Mercury getting involved with? We didn't know. And it seemed we weren't about to find out."**

**Guilt forced him into explaining before he could stop himself. "Mercury understood that I didn't… couldn't–"**

**"Did she? Understand, I mean? She could never explain it to us. I'm thinking that she didn't so much understand it, but was merely prepared to put up with it."**

**His neck ached with the strain he was trying to hide and he massaged it briefly. "None of you knew where I was coming from." **_**Damn it, Donovan! Keep your mouth shut!**_

**Stacey sat forward in her chair, not missing his slip.**__**"Now's a good time to tell us."**

**He leaned forward, mimicking her, and dropped his hands between his knees. ****"I disagree." **

**Stacey's eyes held his unflinchingly, then she sat back in her chair, her mouth working over her obvious disappointment.**_** "**_**Eventually she admitted to me that she had fallen in love with you and I **_**really**_** started to worry. I had good cause. You disappeared soon after. Put yourself in my place, Frank. What could I think?"**

**He had to be careful. He could smell the brewed coffee and Mercury hadn't returned from the kitchen, so she had to be listening. "I'm sure you're about to tell me." **

**"I guessed she confessed her feelings to you and you took fright and fled."**

**"I see. Then that would be narrow-minded thinking, wouldn't it?" **

**"Perhaps," Stacey said, untroubled. "But then you didn't bother her with an explanation."**

**His hands jerked and he hid the movement by fingering his watch, pretending to check the time. He couldn't refute any of this. Rather than come on the attack and alienate Mercury, he kept his tone light and non-committal. "I'm enlightened, Mrs Murchison, but your thirty minutes are nearly up. Is there a purpose to this?"**

**"Definitely. The crux of the matter is what came after you left." **__**Stacey leaned forward in her chair again, gripping the armrests with both hands. **__**"Mercury stopped visiting and we got sick of hearing her answering machine taking our calls. I offered to check out her apartment and found her in a shocking state, unkempt and under-nourished. The place was a mess and your **_**nude**_** portrait–"**

_**"**_**That's enough, Stacey!" Mercury cried from the kitchen door.**

**Stacey's head swung around. "He has to hear this, Mercury."**

**"You've gone too far. Come on, Frank, we're leaving." ****She came into the room and grabbed his hand. **

**Donovan got to his feet and curled his other hand around hers. "Get some overnight things," he said. "You won't be coming back tonight."**

**She smiled and spun around heading for what he presumed was her bedroom.**

**"Tell me this, Frank Donovan," Stacey said, her voice loud and desperate. "Did you ever try to contact her again? Just once? To see how she was?"**

**He hesitated. "No."**

**"That's what I thought." Stacey was standing now, gripping her chair with ****two hands. "You don't deserve her. You're bad news for her, so if she has any sense, she'll dump you now before it goes any further–"**

**"I appreciate your concern for your sister, Mrs Murchison," he said through clenched teeth. "I admire it. Even envy it. But Mercury said she wants to be with me and that's all that matters."**

**"Is it? Prove to yourselves, if not to me, that this won't be a case of history repeating itself."**

**Mercury appeared at the bedroom doorway.**__**"That's not necessary. I… I trust him." **

**Frank felt a prickle of unease at the lack of confidence in her voice.**

**Stacey heard it too. "Then why are you running away?" she asked, triumph ringing through her voice. "You're not sure, are you?"**

**"This is moot," Donovan said. "She's coming with me." **

**"****Frank…" Mercury began, and his chest clenched. Stacey had succeeded. Mercury was backing down. **

**He strode toward, grasping her shoulders, too roughly he feared. "You gave me an ultimatum before." His composure was forced when all he really wanted to do was throttle Stacey and throw Mercury over his shoulder. "If I left New York before you made your decision, then I was history. I'm not leaving town until I have that answer. So, here's an ultimatum of my own." He took a breath. "Stay here with your sister, confront your fears… whatever, but I'll send a car for you at…" He checked his watch. "… seven o'clock and if you send it away, I'll have my answer and I'm on the next plane out of here**_**.**_**"**__**He dropped his hands and opened the front door.**

**"Frank! Wait!"**

**He stood on the threshold, hardening his heart to her indecision and distress**_**.**_** "No." He turned to face her. "If you don't examine your feelings without me, then we'll never know. **_**I'll **_**never be sure." He bent and softly kissed her. "Seven o'clock."**

**He closed the door after him. **

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

**Donovan sat hunched over his dining table and stared at the single white rose he'd placed in the center of the setting for two. When he bought it on the way home, he thought of white for truce. He now saw it as a symbol of his failure, his surrender to the inevitable. He failed to hold onto the only woman he wanted in his life. **

**She wasn't coming. **

**He checked his watch again. Almost eight-twenty. **_**Face it, Donovan, if she were coming, she'd be here by now.**_** For a man who thought regrets were a waste of emotion, he was now kicking himself for leaving her behind. He was crazy believing he'd won her over. ****The moussaka he prepared for their dinner was stuck in a cooling oven and the Greek salads were becoming limp beside the dinner plates. He should give up and throw the lot in the waste bin.**

**The intercom buzzed and he felt a dizzying surge of hope. He didn't even consider that he left instructions at the desk to send her up immediately, but lunged for the intercom and punched the button to connect him downstairs.**

**"Visitors for you, Mr Donovan," the desk clerk explained. "Mr Rian Banner with Ms Marcie Haynes."**

**His heart thudded dully with defeat. Banner and Marcie weren't expected but he couldn't do anything about it now. "Send them up," he said, his voice hollow. **

**Going to the bar, he poured himself a large bourbon and downed the shot before heading for the door. One wasn't much use, but it was better than nothing. He took a deep breath, opened it and spotted them leaving the elevator, both dressed in suits and toting briefcases. He lifted an enquiring brow at Banner who was pulling up the rear. Rian spread a hand out and shrugged his shoulders behind Marcie's back, then pointed to her and mouthed 'her idea'.**

**Marcie reached the open door and leaned into him, kissing him on the mouth. Banner's jaw dropped and Donovan felt his own lips tighten. **

**"Hello darling," she said. **

_**Darling?**_** This morning she as good as kicked him out of her apartment. **

**"You've opened the bourbon?" Marcie asked, tasting her lips. "I'd prefer champagne. We're celebrating! We've had a great day. Best thing you could have done was stay away. Not that I didn't miss you, but Eugene's star witness was an asshole and the jury was totally bored, and then I put Rian on the stand and he charmed the pants from them." She smiled and caressed Donovan's cheek before walking into the apartment.**

**Donovan stood rooted to the spot, staring at Banner. "What the–?"**

**"You tell me," Banner said brushing past him and giving him a huge wink. "I'm just the driver, but I've got the feeling I'm about to become the fifth wheel."**

**Closing the door, Donovan followed them into the living room. Rian was sniffing the air appreciatively and Marcie was looking Donovan up and down with admiration.**

**"Something smells good," Banner said.**

**"Someone **_**looks**_** good," Marcie said, checking out his CK jeans and dark silk shirt. The way her eyes lingered on his throat and chest made him annoyed he left so many buttons undone. "What's the occasion?" she asked.**

**"No occasion." **_**Not any more.**_** "Perhaps you can tell me how I can help the two of you."**

**"You could share whatever you've got cooking for starters," Banner said. "Not that I think that's going to happen." Rian went to the dining table and opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder. "That's my report on the highlights of today's proceedings." He eyed the candles and single rose and table setting for two. "Not that you're going to be in any frame of mind to read it," he said slowly, turning around with a huge grin on his face. "No occasion, eh?" He put the folder back in his briefcase.**

**Marcie took in the table as well, then swung a look at Donovan. "You were expecting me?"**

**He braced himself. "Not exactly."**

**"Hey, Marcie," Banner said quickly, "we can report back to Frank tomorrow morning. I'll drive you back–"**

**"Wait!" Marcie put out a hand to silence him. "If you weren't expecting me, then who?"**

**"Marcie, let's go–"**

**"You bastard!"**

**Donovan's temper simmered. **

**"You went to see her today, didn't you? To sort things out?"**

**"Yes." There was little point pretending he didn't know to whom she was referring.**

**"And did you?"**

**"Did I what?"**

**"Sort things out?"**

**"That's none–"**

**"None of my business? Think again, Frank. You were moaning to me about shutting her down, looking to me, I presume, for support. A romantic dinner for two isn't my idea of shutting her down." Her mouth straightened into a tight line, and her eyes slowly widened. "You're planning on sleeping with her tonight, aren't you? Last night it was me–"**

**"Marcie," Donovan warned, looking pointedly at Banner who was rocking back on his heels enjoying the show. "Rian doesn't need to–"**

**Marcie spun around to fix Banner with a glare. "Rian, would you mind waiting outside?"**

**"Of course," he said, although he looked like he wanted to stay for the fireworks. "I'll just dump this report and these files." He headed over to the coffee table and emptied his briefcase on it, then went to the door. "I'll let myself out and wait for you in the foyer. Don't be long."**

**Marcie barely waited for the door to shut behind Banner before turning on Donovan. "What are you doing, Frank?" **

**Donovan folded his arms across his chest. "I'm handling this." **

**"Oh, I'm sure you are. But I don't think you're solving your problem." **

**He scowled, watching her pace his living room before dropping her briefcase beside the coffee table and sitting down hard in an armchair. **

**"What was last night then?" she asked. "For us? What... what did we share? An introductory screw? A warm-up for tonight?" She looked up at him, eyes narrowed with anger.**

**Donovan remained stoic. Maybe he deserved being called a bastard after all. "You more or less threw me out this morning if I remember correctly." **

**"So you thought you'd just …" She swept a hand across the air. "... move on? Frank, if you can't tell the difference between a woman being snippy and still interested, and a woman kicking you out because she's not interested, then you have a lot to learn about women."**

**He reached her in two strides and cornered her in the chair with a hand on each armrest. "****I certainly can't dispute that**_**.**_**" **

**She reeled back in the chair. "What was last night, then? You conveniently never answered."**

**"I..." He straightened and put the width of the coffee table between them. Hell, he couldn't tell her he was substituting her for Mercury – exorcising, or so he thought, one woman with another. **

**"You really are a piece of goods, you know that?" Marcie said, her voice rising. "I was there, was that it? I was available. Here I was thinking, I'm with a man who's being harassed by a woman and not deserving it and so the least I can do is show him that women aren't the vindictive creatures he's thinking they are, and all the time, you were panting for her attention – loving it that she's interested enough to go after you in any way she can."**

**He didn't stem the tirade, suddenly too weary, too apathetic, and just wishing she would go. Instead, he strode over to the bar and poured himself another shot of bourbon, not bothering to offer her any.**

**"What a pathetic person you are, Frank Donovan. Is that how you get off? Being some woman's masochistic lap-dog? Is that what got you going last night with me? Watching her berate you in public turned you on and the best you could do was superimpose me into your perverted fantasy?"**

**He swallowed the bourbon and, slamming down the empty glass, turned to face her. Several years ago, he broke a woman's neck for her abuse of him and he felt close to doing it again. In Colombia, it was kill or be killed. This time it was just a desire to shut her up, but the urge was no less powerful or primal.**

**"You had better leave." He forced the innocuous words from his mouth replacing the choice expletives hovering there. **

**"You think I'm going to just–"**

**Donovan's cell rang from the kitchen and he spun around and made the kitchen in five angry strides. Grabbing the phone from the counter, he flipped it open. "**_**Donovan!**_**"**

**"Whoa! Easy, fella. Rian here, Frank. By the sound of your voice, it's a good thing I rang. But it's not getting any better. I made it to the foyer just as the Diva arrived. I thought you might like to know she's on her way up. I noticed the desk clerk didn't bother announcing her, but simply showed her the elevator and I tried to head her off, but she has a very polite and firm way of fobbing people off."**

**Donovan sagged against the kitchen counter, relief coursing through his body. She hadn't stood him up, but was merely late. "I'm sure she does," he said.**

**"Do you want me to come and get Marcie?" Rian asked.**

**"I don't think she's going to go quietly. I'll escort her down."**

**"I'm not going anywhere then. This I gotta see."**

**Donovan snapped his cell shut and put it down on the kitchen bench with a shaking hand. Grabbing both edges of the bench, he flexed his shoulders to loosen the knots in his muscles. **_**She was coming to him! **_** He felt light-headed with the realization and horrified by the hidden vein of insecurity within him. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and went back into the living room where Marcie was still seated, impatiently tapping her fingers on her knee.**

**"That was Rian," he said, "to see if you were ready to leave."**

**"So you're getting rid of me."**

**"I wouldn't have used those words."**

**"**_**You bastard**_**–!"**

**"Yes, I know. Marcie..." He paused, giving himself time to cool off. "It was never my intention to hurt you."**

**"That's what they all say, don't they? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"**

**"No, it probably won't. I'm sorry. This last week has been–"**

**"A hollow apology won't cut it either, Frank. And don't bother telling me your problems any more. I'm not interested."**

**He thrust his jaw forward, stretching his neck against the tension. "I'll walk you down to Rian."**

**"Don't bother. You are one pain in the ass I don't need to prolong." Launching herself from the armchair, she swept past him toward the door. She had it opened before he could get there and then spun around and back-tracked. "I forgot my briefcase."**

**Donovan checked the corridor and saw Mercury standing outside the elevator, unsure in which direction to head. She held a clutch purse but no overnight bag and he didn't want to think about what that meant. Seeing him at the door, she smiled and the look on her face dispelled Marcie's malice. She walked toward him with a grace cultivated on the stage, her skirt caressing her legs with each stride. He loved her legs. He loved her body. He loved the way she made him feel. He loved–**

**She reached him, still smiling, and he roughly drew her into his arms, needing to touch her, hold her and kiss her and shut out the malevolence invading him. Nothing and no one was more important at that moment and the thought amazed and awed him. He felt her jerk in his arms at his aggression, then she sank into him, her kiss flaming his senses, sending the blood pounding through his body and pooling in his groin. Forcing himself to end the kiss before he lost control, he reluctantly held her away and stepped back into his apartment, drawing her in with him.**

**"How touching," Marcie said, watching them, briefcase in hand. "Good evening, Ms Aldair, and good luck. For your sake, I can only hope you last longer than I did. This man's got all the moves but nothing to follow through with." She pushed past them to the door, then stopped and looked back. "I can't even say it was nice while it lasted, Frank. Well, a couple of hours were pretty mind-blowing, but other than that... I'll let myself out, shall I?" She laughed without humor and walked out the door. **

**Donovan took the three steps necessary to slam the door after her, then turned to face Mercury, his hands on his hips, legs apart. It was a belligerent stance, but he couldn't help it. His nerves were still edgy, preparing him for battle. If Mercury wanted to make something of Marcie's parting shot– **

**But when he saw the defiance in her eyes he realized none of this was her fault. She was here because he asked her to come, and her trust humbled him.**

**He needed to break the ice, disarm her in some way. "You look beautiful, Mercury," he said and meant it. He wanted to run his fingers through her long hair, bury his face in the hollow of her throat, peel the chiffon from her body and feel her skin against his.**

**She didn't move. **

**He tried again. "You're late." **

**She lifted a brow at him and he smiled inwardly, noting that she was using his own non-verbal signals against him.**

**She wasn't smiling. She was glaring at him, her hands on her hips, mirroring his stance. "I wanted you to sweat. And you've got five minutes to explain who, what, when and why, Frank."**

**He didn't care that she had played him again and didn't know where to begin to explain. "I'm glad you came."**

**"Four minutes and fifty-five seconds, Frank."**

**He smiled nervously. "You'll remember Marcie from last Sunday. Rian Banner brought her here about ten minutes ago. You met him downstairs."**

**"The guy running resistance?" He could hear the barely controlled anger in her voice and knew it wouldn't take much to explode it.**

**"That's the one. He also warned me you were on your way up."**

**She gasped. "You needed to be warned?" **

**"No, I didn't. As you could just tell, Marcie is more than pissed at me right now."**

**"And she was here because–?"**

**"You know, I never found out." He dropped his hands from his hips, letting them hang loosely.**

**"She was alone here?"**

**"For a few minutes."**

**"Why was she alone here?"**

**"She found out you were my guest tonight and wanted to abuse me without witnesses."**

**Mercury smiled slightly and dropped her hands from her hips. "Did she?" **

**He moved a step closer to her, encouraged by the thawing. "Abuse me? Very well, I have to say." **

**"Good. Saves me the tedium. Will she be back?"**

**"I very much doubt it." His hands trembled to reach out for her.**

**She fidgeted with the clutch in her hand. "The couple of mind-blowing hours?"**

**"I'm not going there, and neither should you."**

**She took a step toward him, closing the gap. "Perhaps we can... later." Her words held a promise but she folded her arms across her chest, her body telling a different story.**

**He took another step but she quickly turned and headed for the living room.**

**He lunged for her. **

_**No more! **_

**No more pushing him away. She'd given him his answer and now he was going to take what he wanted. Grabbing her from behind, he spun her around. A tremor that could have been panic shook her but he was unable to pull back.****He pinned her to the wall, snatched her purse from her fingers and flung it away. With his body hard against hers, he wrapped one hand around her throat, forcing up her chin. He saw no fear in her eyes, only a hunger and desperation he was sure he mirrored. Seizing her parted mouth with his own, he thrust his tongue inside.**

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

**She tasted so good, felt so soft against him. He shifted, angling in his hips, wanting this, and she sank into him. She wanted it too. **

**"Too many clothes!" he gasped, sweat prickling the nape of his neck and upper lip. He claimed her mouth again as her hands fumbled at his shirt, then she ripped it from his shoulders and started to lift his mesh t-shirt. **

**"The jeans," he ordered, diverting her, then impatiently unzipped them himself and shoved them down his hips. She closed a hand, warm and sure, over him. "**_**Yesss.**_**" He swelled under her insistent caress.**

**It wasn't enough. Eyes locking with hers, he pushed up her skirt, discovering bare skin and a thong. He hooked a finger around the lace and dragged it down, then slid a finger inside. She was hot and wet and ready. "You feel… exquisite," he said, his voice hoarse.**

**She moaned and slid down the wall, forcing him in deeper. "I don't want your hand, Frank. I want you–"**

**There were no more barriers between them, no reason not to finally make her his. Shifting position, he grabbed her hips, lifted her and thrust himself inside. **

**"**_**Dios!" **_

**With her legs wrapped around his waist, he ****spiraled out of control and tried focusing on her glazed eyes, then her panting mouth, all restraint gone. He moved within her, strong and hurried, the scent of her heated skin driving him crazy.**

_**Pull back! **_

**He knew he was taking it too fast and too hard but when pushed to his limit he was never a tender lover. And he had a gutful today. Aggravated by three women, teased by the one he held against the wall, he was past sanity and deep into the realm of impassioned temper where love and lust mingled with no definable boundary.**

**Her hands moved over him, frantic, then slid under his t-shirt. And froze.**

**She found the scars. Scars he wasn't of a mind to explain.**

**"Don't! I cannot–" Thrusting in harder, he slammed her against the wall and she jerked against him.**

**"Fraaaaank!" **

**Shit! He was too rough, so intent on his own needs that he disregarded hers. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes closed in shame. "I'm so sorry."**

**"Oh god, Frank, oh god, oh god..." **

**She shuddered against him and he realized her cry was one of release, not pain. Awed by the rapture on her face, he rode the tremors with her.**

**She panted through the last shudder, then shook her head as if to clear it. "What... did I feel... on your back?" **

**"Forget it," he muttered against her skin. **

**Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. "Take off... that shirt," she ordered. **

**He wanted her demands, but not that one. He looked deep into her eyes, willing her to leave it alone. "No," he said, kissing her instead. **

**She moaned and he stroked his tongue against hers, desperate to distract her. **

**It didn't work.**

**Pushing on his chest, she frowned. "Frank, please... tell me. What is it?" **

_**Damn her!**_** She was persistent, but that's why he loved her– **

_**Love.**_

**He loved her. **

**He gazed at her face and saw her desire tempered by hurt and confusion. He withdrew slowly and lowered her, stroking her cheek, overwhelmed by the softness and the wonder of her. She'd given in to him all day – even now – selflessly and this was how he repaid her. **

**"You have given me so much," he said. "Give me this one thing more." **

**Her hands were splayed against the wall. She didn't answer but her chest heaved, riveting his eyes to her. "I want to see you," he whispered. "All of you. Take off your dress." He held his breath to see if she would obey him. **

**"I want you to look at me," she said, reaching for the back of her dress. Seeing her fumble, he pushed her hands away, yanking the zip down. **

**The straps of material slid from her shoulders and fell to her feet and he swallowed the lump in his throat. She was naked to him and beautiful. His. He wanted to make her his again and never stop. Donovan stroked her from neck to hip, his eyes following, drinking in the sight of her heaving breasts and soft skin. Cupping his hands under her bottom, he lifted and lowered her slowly back onto him, reveling in the look of pleasure that bloomed on her face. **

**He poised his lips over hers. "You feel so good…" Their mouths touched and he sighed into her, tenderness swelling within him – the feeling unfamiliar but incredible. And no less staggering. **

**She gave a breathy laugh between kisses. "You feel… pretty good too–"**

**He didn't need any further encouragement. Pinning her arms above her head, he nuzzled his face into her neck as his body thrust into her, drew back then plunged again. "… cannot wait any longer…" **

**"**_**God, Frank!**_**" **

**He drove his tongue into her mouth. "So hot... so sweet..." He ached all over, ready to explode.**

**"Keep going…"**

**"… cannot stop…."**

**"Oh, love**_**…yes. Fraaaaank!**_**" **

**He buried himself deep within her, his release crashing with hers, and leaned heavily against her. Moving a hand reverently up and down her thigh, he was loathe to lose the contact, knowing he held against him someone precious and perfect for him.**

**Her trembling stopped and he reluctantly withdrew, slowly setting her feet back to the floor. **

**"I do not deserve you," he said, his head bowed. "I can offer so little, but it is too late. I cannot let you go–"**

**"I'm not going anywhere," she said, her fingers against his lips. "This is where I want to be."**

**The conviction in her face humbled him. He kissed her, his lips tender, wanting her to know the marvel of his discovery, the strength of purpose it gave him, the sense of rightness in his world if she was there, but he couldn't find the words. **

**He tried to show her instead. **

**Pulling the t-shirt over his head, he guided her hands to the scars on his back. **

**"These remind me that I am not infallible." **

**Mercury watched Frank's face as she smoothed her hands across his back and upward, tracing the puckered skin, feeling coarse ridges and soft hollows spreading from his waist to his shoulder blades. She saw shame and an emotional pain in his eyes that clutched at her heart. She wanted to see what her hands could feel, but instead, tenderly held him to her, prepared to wait.**

**"What happened?"**

**"Not now. Please…"**

**Mercury nodded reluctantly. "I love you, Frank Donovan," she whispered, still breathless. She accepted this precious gift of his trust, but she needed more. "If this is just a fling for you and you leave me again, you will take the best of me with you." She sought his eyes, opening her heart to him. "I'll never stop loving you. If you can't handle that–" **

**He nodded and sighed deeply, hitched up his jeans and swung her off her feet, holding her easily.**

**"I think... no, I **_**know**_** that I too love you," he said. "But I do not know what to do with these feelings, whether to trust them or fear them–" **

**He carried her into an austere room semi-lit by two lamps and dominated by a large bed and mirrored closet that ran half the length of one wall. Setting her on her feet beside the bed, he turned her in his arms to face the mirror. She saw herself, flushed, disheveled and exposed, leaning back against the only man she ever loved. Frank's shoulders were hunched, his chin sunk on his chest, unable to meet her eyes. She had never seen him so unsure, so vulnerable.**

**"You see me stripped of my defenses," he said. "It is not a pretty sight. I see a woman totally unself-conscious and unafraid. I envy you."**

**She swung around and hugged him fiercely. "There is nothing to fear, Frank. I could never abuse your trust." **

**"I want to believe that."**

**She pulled back, astounded. "Is that the real reason why you left me? You were afraid to love?"**

**"No!" His face twisted, harsh in his torment. "You still believe that? After what I have tried to tell you?"**

**"I don't know what to believe." She bit her lip. "I just know that my world came crashing down around me when you left."**

**"I cannot change history, but I am sorry for what I did. God, Mercury, are you having second thoughts? Even now?"**

**"No! It's just that–"**

**"Hell!" He let her go and headed for the bathroom. **

**"Frank–" **

**The words died in her throat at the sight of his back. She caught him at the doorway, cautiously touching his shoulder. He tensed and she gazed at his skin, the horror of it churning her stomach. The discolored welts appeared uneven and blotchy, some wide and at angles, others narrow and parallel. She tentatively ran her finger along one, exploring the rough edge and soft cavity.**

**"Do not!" he said, not moving. **

**She withdrew her hand but continued to assess the damage on his back, appalled at its magnitude. If plastic surgery had been an option, he obviously had chosen not to undergo it. "I can't begin to guess at what you endured… what produced this… this– but if I ever meet the person who did it, I would surely kill him if I could."**

**"I already have." He turned, eyes hard and mouth curled into a snarl. "And it was a **_**her**_**."**

**Mercury stepped back, alarmed by the brutal satisfaction in his voice.**

**He moved, forcing her backward to the edge of the bed. "What's wrong, Mercury? You wanted to feel this. You wanted to see this." He grabbed her hands. "Then feel." He dragged them roughly to his back again. "**_**Look!**_**" He let her go and spun around, watching her over his shoulder. "You want to know how I got them." Turning back to her, his hands went for her throat. "Do you want to hear how I killed her?"**

**"I'm sure–"**

**"…there was a good reason?" he finished for her. **

**Mercury swallowed hard, conscious her muscles were poised for flight or fight, amazed at how the situation suddenly turned dangerous.**

**"Oh, there was," he continued. "Plenty of reasons. They are there on my back, and more besides. He grabbed one of her hands and thrust it into the front of his jeans. "Do you want to know what she was doing to me as I choked the life out of her?" **

**Mercury shut her eyes. She asked for this, but the cruelty she innocently unleashed shocked her. She wanted to erase his bitterness, but didn't know how. **

**"Would it help, Frank?" she asked, opening her eyes, filling them with all of her love and trust. "If we talked about–"**

**"Are you kidding?" He shoved her hand away. "Do you think shrinks haven't already tried to… **_**help**_**?"**

**And failed. There was only one thing she could offer. "I love you, Frank."**

**She held her breath.**

**And waited.**

**His eyes shut then he smoothed his hand up her throat to her jaw, stroking her lips with his thumb, his fingers tender on her cheek. "I believe you."**

**Mercury sighed. **

**His lips parted, his eyes now focused, soft and aggrieved. "You made me remember that I love you."**

**She pressed her lips to his palm.**

**"I took you with me," he said, his face distorted, drifting off again. "You were beside me in that hell. You kept me sane."**

**"Were you ever coming back to me?" she asked, dreading the truth but needing it.**

**"I… don't know."**

**"You weren't." She was hurt, but not surprised. She pulled out of his arms and shivered in the cool air. Pulling the white cover from the bed, she wrapped it around herself. "You could have found me if you tried, if you wanted. Instead, 'Magical Dreams' found you."**

**"Yes."**

**"And now?" She sat on the bed and drew him beside her. "Frank, let me into your heart."**

**He sighed heavily. "It's difficult for me–"**

**"I realize that, but I can help you. I'll listen, Frank, and I won't judge you. Remember when we used to lie awake at night and I would talk about nothing and anything and you would listen, sometimes not saying a word, but would just listen."**

**He nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips. "You certainly could talk."**

**"With you, I could. With anyone else, I was pretty tight-lipped. Yes," she affirmed as he raised both brows, "I was. But with you, I felt I could say anything, tell you anything. I want you to feel you can do that with me now."**

**"I don't even know where to start."**

**She opened one end of the bedspread and invited him inside with her. She laid her head on his shoulder. "You can start by telling me about those scars."**

_**Sequel to follow.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: I guess this is a prequel to the prequel. A little dramatic Donovan detour...**_

_**oOo**_

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Three years earlier…**_

**He'd become anaesthetized to it. **

**The looks of resentment, of loathing.**

**Of fear.**

**In the faces of the young and the old, the peasant women and men of Chunaya, it was expected, but he felt no sense of power from their awe of him and the soldiers with whom he walked. Donovan slid a glance at Ben beside him. He too was scanning the villagers they passed, his dark amber eyes crinkled against the fierce sun. Working undercover for the CIA as Francisco Cubillos, Frank Donovan had backup in the persona of his friend and associate, Ben Straayer, known to the rebels as Iago Ramaya. **

**"I can't see Belicia," Ben murmured, dropping his chin onto his chest. "I couldn't get a message to her in time."**

**"She will have to do without your company then," Donovan said, looking ahead at the column of soldiers led by Nestor Casarés, Field Commander of this band of mountain rebels. He narrowed his eyes against the glare thrown back by the white-washed walls of the peasant houses they passed, their owners watching sullenly from the shade.**

**"I need to see her. She's the only good thing in this place. I could disappear and meet up with you at the tavern later," Ben suggested.**

**Donovan jerked his rifle higher onto his shoulder. "Don't be a fool." **_**Shit! **_**He lowered his voice, cursing his heated slip. Their Spanish was flawless, an authentic mix of traditional and local dialect and the noise of the soldiers' boots on the gritty road drowned their conversation, but he too was being careless. But not so careless to involve himself with a local girl. **

**"You'll be missed," Donovan said.**

**"So?" Ben looked up and swung off his uniform cap, shaking the brown curls at his neck. "This is only an R and R visit. Nestor said so himself. Tell him I've gone to do a little shopping. Hell, he's a man. He'll understand when I arrive with a lovely lady on my arm. Then again, he probably won't even notice I'm gone." **

**"We stay under the radar," Donovan said emphatically. "In everything."**

**"Shit, Francisco! We've been bored silly for the last month. I need a break."**

**Donovan rounded on his friend. "You think we are here for the fun of it?" **

**He glanced over the head of the soldier in front of him and cursed again. He wasn't exactly blending in either. The others were walking ahead jauntily, laughing and talking, anticipating the night ahead spent in the village tavern with real alcohol, real cocaine and women who couldn't use a rifle better than they, but Donovan felt no sense of anticipation, no enjoyment in terrorizing these villagers to prove their superiority. The rebels weren't the heroes they pretended to be. Instead, they were nothing more than thugs in uniform.**

**Donovan understood the need for operatives in this area, to track the movements of the guerrillas and inform the CIA when hostages were taken or cocaine shipped, but Nestor's band appeared to be small-fry in the scheme of things and Donovan was chafing at being part of such a minor CIA arm. He didn't volunteer for this assignment to spend nearly three months browbeating villagers.**

**"You know as well as I that Nestor likes to keep us all together," Donovan said, "with good reason, considering the villagers' opinion of us. My advice is keep away from the local women. Period."**

**Flexing his shoulders, he loosened his uniform collar, encouraging any small whisper of breeze against his skin and noticed one of the female soldiers ahead watching him – Sub-Commander Ana Diaspora. He looked away quickly. It was well known Ana was coupled with Nestor, but lately her friendliness had been directed Donovan's way. He didn't need nor want the attention that a fling with the commander's woman would bring.**

**"You're an unromantic prick, Cubillos," Ben complained, using Donovan's undercover name.**

**"I've been told enough times to believe it, Ramaya." Donovan smiled, probably the first time that day. Ben's undercover name was a misnomer. It should have been Casanova, or another of the world's greatest lovers and his interest in women was usually reciprocated by those that caught his eye.**

**"**_**Bastards!**_**"**

**Donovan's attention snapped ahead. The shout came from a group of villagers, mostly women dressed in the dull grays of the working peasants and old men in well worn trousers and shirts too big for their sunken frames. Donovan frowned. They were either very brave or very stupid. **

**"Murderers!"**

**"You have taken our sons and daughters from us. Leave us alone."**

**"Idiots!" one of the rebels shouted. "Go home and hide under your beds while we rid your country of the capitalist dogs."**

**"You killed our priest!" A woman, ignoring the folly of baiting rifle-toting guerrillas, pushed forward and defiantly threw a rock into their ranks. More villagers, emboldened by their numbers, stooped where they stood and ran into the road to throw stones and sticks haphazardly at the soldiers. **

**Donovan surged forward with the rest of the soldiers as they pushed the villagers back. He and Ben used their hands and arms to resist the peasant flow, but not so the other rebels. The soldiers swung their rifles from their shoulders and beat the tide back with the butts of their weapons. **

**Stooping to help a young girl to her feet, Donovan dodged a stick wielded by an older woman. "Bastard!" she cried. "Get your filthy hands off my daughter!"**

**Straightening, he saw an old man's arm bunch and a rock the size of a squash ball hit another soldier in the back of the neck. The rebel staggered, but recovered quickly, charging the man with his rifle raised, ready to strike. Donovan leapt forward, reaching the villager in time to shield him, his breath hissing through his teeth as his shoulder took the brunt of the blow. **

**"Save your temper for those who deserve it!" Donovan gritted, rounding on the stocky revolutionary. **_**Paco Florés. **_**The biggest bully in their group.**

**"Stay out of this, Cubillos!" Florés shouted. "Just because you haven't got the balls to administer a little justice–" Florés swung his fist but Donovan parried the blow with a block to Florés wrist before it could connect with his face. Following through with a punch to the man's stomach, Donovan crouched, hands defensive and waited for the next move.**

**Ben muscled in and helped Florés straighten. "Florés, my friend," he cajoled. "Save your energy for the wine, women and song in the tavern. We can't let these villagers turn us against each other." **

**"Enough!" Nestor shouted from ahead. "Keep moving!" He fired his rifle into the air and the villagers scurried for cover, banging their doors behind them or cowering against the rough walls.**

**Florés surged forward against Ben's hands then stopped, his gaze boring into Donovan. Turning slowly, Florés joined the other soldiers as they reluctantly regrouped into line. The townspeople left in the street watched them, their faces mirroring their hate, as Donovan resumed his place toward the rear.**

**"So much for staying under the radar–" Ben grinned, once again falling into step with him.**

**Donovan flexed his injured arm but said nothing. **

**"Are you hurt?" Ben asked, concern replacing the banter.**

**Donovan shook his head. "Florés is more brawn than brain, a dangerous combination."**

**"Hey, don't worry about it." Ben squeezed his unharmed shoulder. "The tavern's just around the corner. Florés will get drunk again, and you can tip a tankard of beer over his head and he won't even know who did it."**

**oOo **

**The frenetic rhythm of the Spanish guitar fired the energy in the crowded tavern and the guerrillas responded, banging their tankards on tables and stamping their feet on the earthen floors. Uniform caps were tossed into the air or perched on the heads of the local women who sat in the soldiers' laps.**

**Ignoring the beat as he studied the chessboard on the bar counter, Donovan hitched a foot onto the stool beside him and rested an arm on his knee. He was tired of this assignment. Having infiltrated the unit as a wandering tradesman, he had allowed them to conscript him, Ben joining soon after. Donovan was now restless with the inaction, alleviated only by minor skirmishes against poorly-matched insurgents. As far as he was concerned, he and Ben hadn't achieved much since they had been in Chunaya. **

**"It's about time the knights were knocked off the board," he told the bartender. **

**César Marecho moved his bishop away from Donovan's rook and shook his graying head. "Conditions aren't favorable," he said. **

**Marecho was a CIA operative and mule installed in the tavern several weeks after Donovan and Ben's infiltration into the group, his role being go-between for Donovan and his superiors. Each chess move was a code signaling rebel progress and numbers. It was now an accepted routine for Francisco Cubillos to challenge the bartender at Chess while the others cavorted with the local women. Prompting Marecho about the knights was Donovan's signal that he and Ben were ready to move on.**

**"Your other pair of eyes is missing," Marecho said, scanning the tavern for Ben. "As is his local piece of ass."**

**Donovan raised his head, his lips thinned, recalling how Ben had ignored his advice and left the group to collect Belicia. "This trip into town was unscheduled and, against my better judgment, he's gone to find her." **

**"You don't like your friend having a little soft company?" Marecho smoothed the moustache above his lip and Donovan suspected it was to hide a smile.**

**Donovan looked back down at the chessboard to assess how much personal information to exchange with the operative. "I don't deny him the company but he's becoming too involved." He pushed the board away, losing interest in it.**

**"He cares for her," Marecho nodded. **

**"He can't afford to."**

**"And it is something you are too smart to allow yourself to do, so you think others should not also."**

**"Meaning?" Donovan asked, looking up sharply.**

**"Nothing, my friend. Except that I have noticed you are very… singular. You don't let your hair down like the others." Marecho pushed the chessboard back. "Your move."**

**Donovan wiped a hand over his crew-cut short hair. "My days for doing that ended when I came to this God-forsaken country. And my hair was longer than yours. Much longer. At least it kept the biting bugs from my neck. Not so now."**

**Marecho laughed. "You should think about it though – enjoying yourself for a moment. There's little enough moments these days."**

**Donovan agreed. They were deep in a country suffering from Marxism, drug abuse and poverty with little hope of the dissension being resolved in the near future. "I've got other things to think about." Turning his attention back to the chessboard, he fingered the knight, then advanced his rook.**

**"A man doesn't need to think too hard when he's with a woman."**

**Donovan glanced at the revelry around him, the local women, and those from his group, parrying advances and making a few of their own. "I can see that for some, that is so." **

**"Nestor doesn't join," Marecho observed, retreating his queen on the board. "Just makes notes in that little book of his all the time."**

**"Personnel evaluations," Donovan guessed, pinpointing the leader at a small table in the middle of the tavern. "Or maybe he's writing his memoirs, though there's nothing much to tell." He lost interest in Nestor's motivations and refocused on the chessboard.**

**"Or keeping tabs on who's after his job. He's neglecting his woman and that spells trouble, particularly for you. Ana Diaspora does not let the grass grow under her feet and I think she has ear-marked you for her next lover."**

**Donovan's head jerked up, his hand hovering over a bishop.**

**"She's been watching you most of the afternoon," Marecho added. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed."**

**"I noticed. I choose to ignore it."**

**"I'll wager you won't be able to for much longer." Marecho tossed his chin, looking over Donovan's shoulder. Frank resisted turning around to look at her. "She looks like a woman who's had enough of being ignored and just might do something about it."**

**Donovan shifted on the stool, drained his tankard and handed it to the bartender. "You'd better fill this then. I can always cool her off by accidentally spilling it over her," he smiled, repeating Ben's advice earlier.**

**Marecho took the cup, shaking his head. "You're a sad man, Cubillos. Very sad."**

**Donovan swiveled around and scoped the room again. His 'comrades' had commandeered every table. forcing the local men onto the stools lining the bar, and encouraging their women with drinks and cigarettes. The rebel women were hunched in groups at a few of the tables or on the small dance floor, unfettered by the local men who weren't brave enough to approach them. Some were paired off with fellow guerrillas, but the majority scorned the men they fought alongside. **

**Ana was seated beside Nestor, toying with her drink, taking no interest in what he was writing. She looked up and Donovan was caught staring. Before he could look away, she gave him a heat-laden smile. Nestor spoke to her, his brow furrowed and lips hidden under a thick dark moustache. She answered without breaking eye contact with Donovan. Frank cut the thread, turning away to accept Marecho's offer of a fresh beer.**

**"Your friend Ramaya's arrived," the bartender said. "With local talent in tow. **_**He**_** intends to enjoy himself tonight."**

**Donovan winced. He swung his head toward the tavern's entrance and saw Ben, unconcerned about being AWOL, stop and look around. **_**Did you have to bring her here, Ben? **_**"I doubt he knows what he's doing." **

**"Where's the harm? And in your living a little too?"**

**Donovan sighed. "No harm. No interest."**

**Marecho grunted and started stowing away the chess pieces. Donovan swung off the stool with his beer in his hand and headed for the group at the dart board on the other side of the tavern. He had to pass Nestor's table but he kept his eyes straight, refusing to acknowledge Ana.**

**He hadn't made it across the room before he felt the soft touch of a hand on his wrist.**

**"Francisco," Ana breathed from behind. "Dance with me."**

**He paused, closing his eyes, then turned and looked pointedly past her to Nestor, but the guerrilla leader was watching Ben and his girlfriend. Uneasiness tightened Donovan's gut.**

**Ana had both of his wrists in her hands and Donovan imagined tipping the beer he held just as he'd joked with Marecho. "Commander Casarés–"**

**"–told me to go entertain myself," Ana said. "I want to dance, but I don't want to dance with other women. Not if I don't have to."**

**So both of them had been given **_**carte blanche**_** to enjoy themselves. Donovan's eyes searched Ana's smooth round face softened by sun-bleached bangs, and decided against taking her up on her offer. "This time you have to, Sub-Commander." He made to step past her, but she gripped his wrists harder. **

**"Francisco, you are trying too hard. I know you are aware of me–"**

**"I'm aware that you're another man's woman."**

**"Nestor is not… possessive."**

**"Maybe I am?"**

**Ana's eyes lit up and her hand strayed to Donovan's elbow. "Then I can arrange–" **

**He closed his free hand over hers and gave it back to her. **

**"Cubillos," Ana hissed, "you don't look like a stupid man." She raised her chin, her eyes narrowed. "Dance with me or–"**

**But Donovan wasn't listening. Nestor, his rifle slung loosely over his shoulder, was on his feet and heading toward Ben. Donovan tensed, side-stepped Ana and casually threaded his way through the tables toward the corner of the room where Ben and his girlfriend were hip-locked and looking into each other's eyes.**

**"Cubillos!" Ana seethed. "Damn you! How dare you!"**

**He sensed Ana tailing him, but ignored her, intent on Nestor now hedging Ben and Belicia.**

**"Ramaya!" Nestor said, his hands on his hips in front of them. "You left the unit without permission. Explain."**

**Hitching himself up at the bar, Donovan took a swig of his drink, eyeing the scenario closely, then jerked back as Ana knocked the tankard from his hand, splashing the beer over his face and down his neck. He instinctively grabbed her other wrist as it swung in an arc toward his jaw. **

**"Damn it!" Donovan cursed.**

**"I've been here all the time, Commander," Ben lied, his voice wavering in the sudden silence.**

**"How dare you walk away from me!" Ana was in Donovan's face, her eyes livid. **

**Donovan had the feeling the tavern patrons didn't know where to look – at Nestor squaring off Ben or at Ana cat-fighting with him. Nestor appeared to be ignoring Ana's outburst, too intent on Ben in his sights. **

**"Actually," Nestor said, "you left the unit two hundred yards from the tavern, crossed the road and headed back toward the church." His voice was deceptively neutral. "You first entered the tavern five minutes ago with your companion."**

**Donovan wrestled with Ana as she tried to free her wrist. He grabbed the other one as it swung to connect with the side of his head and twisted both behind her back. He was aware of Ben glancing at him, looking for support, but Donovan had his hands full. Literally.**

**"Commander Casarés," Ben's girlfriend spoke quietly, "it is my fault. I persuaded Iago to–"**

**"Commander," Ben interrupted, "what difference does it make? I only went to pick up Belicia. I had no way–"**

**"You are a dog, Cubillos!" Ana said, biting on the words. "Panting after my scraps, and yet you–"**

**Securing both of her wrists with one hand, Donovan snaked his other through Ana's hair and pulled her face to his to shut her up with his mouth. He had no idea if she would allow the rough caress, and was flying in the face of repercussions from Nestor for stepping on his turf, but he needed to hear the conversation on the other side of the room.**

**"…difference is a breach of protocol and resulting insubordination," Nestor said. "I have standards, Ramaya, and I intend to uphold them."**

**"Shit! What are you doing?"**

**Donovan thrust Ana away at the urgency in Ben's voice. Nestor's rifle was trained, not at Ben, but at Belicia who cowered against her lover's side. Donovan slid off the barstool but Ana planted herself in his path, both hands on his shoulders. "Do you really think you can treat–?" she spat.**

**Donovan growled in frustration. Ben had swung his own rifle from his shoulder and was aiming it at Nestor and a group of guerrillas who had gathered around Nestor, supporting their commander.**

**"I will not have my authority undermined," Nestor's speech was rapid but unmistakably deadly. "And now you threaten me!" **

**Donovan ploughed through Ana, knocking her off her feet and pushed two other soldiers out of the way. He saw Nestor's wrist tighten and launched himself at the guerrilla leader. Taking down Ben wouldn't protect the girl. Knocking Nestor's rifle high, Donovan crueled his aim and sent the bullet into the ceiling. The shot exploded in his ears and plaster shattered around them as Donovan and Nestor rolled to the floor, crushing the debris. Women screamed and men shouted as they jostled to enter the fray, but Donovan ignored them. Thumping a knee into the guerilla leader's chest, he sank a fist into Nestor's face and wrested the rifle from him. Unknown hands hauled him to his feet, and he swung around ready for retribution to see Ana's outrage.**

**"Have you gone mad?" she said, her eyes wide. **

**Donovan steadied his breathing as he surveyed Nestor out cold on the floor.**

**"Let me go!" Ben shouted.**

**Donovan swung around to see Ben struggling against two soldiers who had his hands pinned behind his back. There was no sign of Belicia.**

**"Bad move, Cubillos," Ana said into the sudden silence. **

**He looked back at her as she signaled for the soldiers to seize him.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

**The thick rope bit into Donovan's wrists****, bound in front of him, as Paco Florés and Vander Arango pushed him from the tavern. He struggled to get back inside, not wanting to leave Ben at the mercy of the rebels.**

**"Florés! Wait!" Donovan demanded. "Ramaya–"**

**"–is no concern of yours now." Florés shoved him from the tavern's cool shade into the afternoon sun. **

**Donovan flinched at the sudden blinding and tucked his head into his chest, scrabbling to keep his balance. Ripples of heat rose from the baked street as he twisted and arched his body, fighting to free himself. He needed to be inside, to help Ben, to preserve their cover. His skin felt slick with sweat, the men's grip slipping, but not enough. **

**The sound of a rifle shot froze him.**

**Florés and Arango stared back at the tavern door but Donovan recovered first, struggling harder. He wrenched out of their grasp and raced back to the entrance, faltering as three more rifle shots exploded. Ducking low, he kept running, his heart hammering at the sound of screams and shouting from inside. **

**Florés and Arango were hard on his heels but he ignored them, intent on getting to Ben. Bodies fell out of the tavern door in a chaotic tide, and Donovan was shoved back with it. He barreled through them, desperation making him uncaring of the people over which he climbed. He burst into the tavern's interior, its cool darkness momentarily blinding him. Hesitating, he allowed his eyes to adjust before surging forward again.**

**Donovan stumbled over an inert body, giving it only a cursory glance, satisfying himself it wasn't Ben. He scoured the debris, the fallen tables and broken chairs, smashed bottles that scrunched underfoot as he advanced to where he had last seen his friend. Ben was gone and so was Belicia. Soldiers streamed through a gaping door at the rear of the tavern and Donovan caught the eye of the bartender, who jerked his head toward the exit. **

**At least Ben and the girl had a head start.**

**Donovan relaxed, relieved that Ben had escaped and was unprepared for the punch that landed in his back. He arched backwards, grunting as his knees buckled.**

**"You crazy bastard!" Florés shouted over the noise. "Did you really think you could get away?"**

**"Idiot!" Donovan shouted back, shaking his head clear of the pain. "Don't you think… if I wanted to escape… I would have kept going? Not come back in here?" **

**"Why **_**did**_** you come back?" Nestor asked. **

**Donovan's blood chilled at the quiet fury in Nestor's voice behind him. He turned slowly. Ana was with Nestor, her arms crossed, legs astride, eyeing Donovan with contempt. **

**With Ben safe for now, Donovan needed to convince the rebel leader that they were still loyal. "Because I'm not a traitor," he said. "I–"**

**"Silence!" Nestor glared at Florés. "Take him back to the camp and this time don't let him get away." He turned and shouted to the last of his men disappearing out the back door. ****"Find Ramaya! Hunt him down."**

**"You can't blame him for defending–" Donovan's head jarred to the side as he was shut down by a fist to his jaw. His vision blurred, teeth aching from the impact and when he straightened, he saw Ana rub her knuckles slightly before flexing her hand.**

_**Bitch! That's one he owed her. **_

**"Florés, control your prisoner." Ana smiled with satisfaction. "Or I'll control him for you."**

**Donovan's skin crawled as she cast her eyes up and down his body. Her gaze came back to the knife on his belt and she sauntered forward. **

**"Shame on you, Florés. You're getting sloppy."**

**She dragged her hand heavily across Donovan's hip and unclipped the knife, drawing it from its sheath and then ran it up his shirt, point forward. His throat went dry as she pushed its tip into the skin above his breastbone.**

**She looked behind her at Nestor. "I want to–"**

**"You had your chance, Ana," Nestor said. "You're with me. Take him away," he ordered Florés. "The rest of you can explain how that local woman got a hold of one of your rifles! Imbeciles!"**

**Ana's gaze bored into Donovan's, assuring him it wasn't over, stowing his knife in her waistband. **

**Donovan met her gaze, his spine stiffening. **

**He wanted to finish it too.**

**oOo**

**The dense trees and thick ferns through which the two guards pushed Donovan gave way to a cleared compound consisting of two long buildings and several round huts surrounding a quadrangle of packed dirt. The flag of their individual rebel cell with its slashes of purple, black and green stripes was raised high on a flagpole in the center and flapped in the cool mountain breeze. This morning Donovan had marched out of here an integral part of the guerrilla band and this had been his home. He returned, a bound and bruised captive and it was now his prison.**

**Two sentries walking the perimeter greeted them. Carvajal, a crack shot and loyal soldier, often wagered with Donovan on the rifle range. "Arango! Cubillos!" he called jovially. "You're back early."**

**Mesa, the second sentry, was a puny man who idolized Florés for his muscle and hand-to-hand combat. He came up to them to clap Florés on the back. "Hey, don't tell me you drank the tavern dry again." Donovan saw him glance at his bound wrists and the smile froze on Mesa's face. "Hey, what's this?"**

**"Cubillos here got himself into a bit of trouble," Florés said, striking Donovan with his rifle but Donovan was ready for it. Locking his knees, he absorbed the dull thud into his back and bit through the pain that radiated from Florés' regular beatings during the trek back. He grunted a curse, not caring if Florés heard it or not.**

**"Got into a fight with our leader," Arango added. "Now he gets to spend the night in a cage."**

**"Cubillos, you're crazy." Carvajal shook his head. "There's better things to do in a tavern than pick fights with Nestor Casarés. I don't envy you right now."**

**Donovan met Carvajal's eyes, not hiding his bitterness, and recognized the soldier's amused camaraderie. The latter assumed it was only a case of a friendly brawl gone sour and once Donovan paid for his misdeeds, he would be marching beside them again.**

**"Ramaya's defected too," Florés gloated. **

**"Jesus! I've missed all the fun," Carvajal said. "Tell me more."**

**"Later. We've got to get this one locked up and enjoying his new bed for the night. Keep moving," Florés ordered, prodding Donovan with the rifle again.**

**Expecting the shove, Donovan arched his back with it and dodged to the right. He raised his bound hands and swung his whole body around whipping his clenched fists against Florés' back, sending him to the ground. Arango and Mesa seized him from behind, but Donovan ignored them, giving up the fight, enjoying the sight of Florés sprawled in the dirt.**

**"Keep your rifle to yourself," Donovan said, the calmness of his voice belying the turmoil in his knotted stomach. "I can walk just as fast without it."**

**Florés' eyes widened with shock, then he pushed himself to his feet, still gripping his gun. Donovan watched Florés tuck in his head and roar, charging him with his rifle raised above his head. Struggling against the other men's hold, Donovan couldn't side-step but the blow didn't fall. Carvajal stopped Florés' swing with both hands.**

**"Settle down, Florés," Carvajal said, his voice confused and wary. "There's no need for that. Leave the man alone. He's going to suffer enough for his foolishness. I thought this dispute was between Nestor and Cubillos. Where do you come into it?"**

**Florés' tugged his rifle from Carvajal then stepped around him and jerked his head to Donovan to keep moving. "That's my business," he said sourly.**

**Donovan was glad the situation had been diffused but, twice in one day, Florés had been thwarted of a head-knocking with him. He walked off, knowing reprisal would come. It was just a matter of when. **

**Skirting the quadrangle, they headed toward a group of four small structures which lived up to their name of 'cage'. They were small, box-like units built on short stilts fashioned from four foot long tree saplings and designed for housing hostages and prisoners. The trees were young and green and strong. Donovan had been part of the work detail that built the last two and while they cut cleanly, they couldn't be bent or broken. Arranged three inches apart, the saplings were lodged into holes in the wooden floor and ceiling and, without his knife, Donovan knew the cages were impossible to break.**

**Florés motioned Donovan to climb into the closest one, then pushed him in head-first. His jaw thudded on the floorboards and he balked at the strong smell of urine. Splinters dug into his cheek as he rolled onto his earlier-bruised shoulder, sending a jab of pain through his body. **

**Arango swung the slat door shut and Florés threaded the chain dangling from the cage floor through the saplings then secured the bolt attached to it.**

**"Sleep well, Cubillos," Florés grinned. "Dream about what Nestor will do to you tomorrow." **

**"Arango," Donovan called, appealing to the other man. "Untie my hands. Hell, man, I can't escape. The best of us have tested these things. Just let me have my hands free."**

**"You won't need hands," Florés jeered. "You've missed dinner call."**

**"Let me untie him, Florés," Arango urged. "Cubillos has been a good soldier. You can't make him piss in his pants."**

**Florés sneered. "Why should I care if he shits himself?" He turned on his heel and waited for Arango, who hovered uncertainly. Donovan considered how he could exploit Arango's sympathy to his plight, but decided the man was too close to Florés to swap alliances. Aranga shrugged regretfully then turned to follow Florés. **

**He watched them walk off, their footfalls giving way to the silence of encroaching dusk. Settling onto his haunches, Donovan leaned back against the bars of his prison and closed his eyes. Where was Ben? Donovan feared if he were found, he would be shot. Like Donovan, he might be able to declare his loyalty and avoid exposure as an operative, but Ben had threatened Nestor with a loaded rifle. He sighed heavily. There was a big difference between a gun aimed at blank range and a scuffle on a tavern floor.**

**The air cooled as the sun ceased its winking through the tall trees on the perimeter and finally slipped below the horizon. The busy birds and their raucous calls gave way to the insistent thrum of cicadas and stealthy scuffles of the night-movers. **

**Donovan passed the time imagining scenarios where he escaped, but most of them ended with a bullet in his back for desertion. If he remained and took what punishment Nestor decreed, he might yet resume his normal duties and maintain his cover.**

**A scrape of a boot on dirt made his head spin to see a figure with a lantern approach from the opposite direction to where Florés and Arango disappeared. Dusk had become a night heavy with stars and a three-quarter moon aided him in identifying his visitor. **

**Ana Diaspora.**

_**Come to take care of our unfinished business, Ana?**_

**She stopped at the cage, placed the lantern on the ground and surveyed him from behind. He stared back at her over his shoulder, assuming an indolence with his predicament and her scrutiny of him. He was glad she showed none of the sexual interest in him from the tavern. Instead, her eyes were cold, her mouth tight.**

**"They found Ramaya," she said, without emotion.**

**Donovan sucked in a breath and turned away. **

_**Hell! So soon? **_**"And?"**

**"He's dead." No regret or concern, just bland fact. **

**Donovan bowed his head. His chest heaved once, then he swung his arm hard, connecting with the side of the cage. His mouth curled as Ana jumped back. "Thanks for the update," he said, his voice almost normal. "The girl?" **

**Ana advanced again, wary, her eyes narrowed. "They're still looking for her. She came out of nowhere and shot at the men holding Ramaya, enabling him to escape. Her life's not worth anything when they find her."**

**Leaning his head back against the cage, Donovan closed his eyes. "How–?" He tried to finish the sentence, but the futility of it, the loss he couldn't hold back lodged the words in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "How did he get caught?"**

**"The fool was in uniform still," Ana said, contempt thick in her voice. "One of the villagers turned him in. Thought they had a deserter. They don't like us very much." She leaned on the side of the cage and ran a finger down the wooden bar. "Nestor wanted your heart on a plate but I pleaded your case and maybe the blood-letting with Ramaya has appeased him, because he's reduced your punishment to a flogging."**

**Donovan tensed, squeezing his eyes before opening them again. Retribution in the training yard. Misdemeanors within the unit were often settled by the lash of a whip. It wasn't the way of all Field Commands, but it **_**was**_** the way of Nestor Casarés. Donovan swung around to look at her again. "Is that why you're here?" he said, hoarsely. "Waiting for me to thank you?"**

**Ana's fingers slid off the cage bar and feathered down the side of his neck. "Is some appreciation too much to ask?"**

**He jerked away from her touch, hating her insensitivity, hating himself more for letting Ben down. "Let me out of here and I'll give you all the thanks you want."**

**"I can't do that, Francisco," she said with genuine regret. "It would be my own death sentence."**

**He turned away. "Then don't expect too much gratitude." **

**Donovan's head cracked against the back of the cage, his hair pulled at the roots by Ana's fist as her other hand held the sharp blade of a knife lightly at his throat. He'd under-estimated her, forgetting Ana the woman was also one of the unit's best soldiers. He froze, the raw sting on his skin warning him she had drawn blood. He felt the warm ooze of it running down his neck.**

**"You just don't get it, Cubillos," she snarled into his ear. "I did you a favor and you're going to bite the hand–"**

**Donovan's tied fists came up and grabbed Ana's hand holding the hilt, tugging the knife away from his neck, then pulled her off-balance so that she fell against the side of the cage. Gripping the bar with her other hand, she pulled back, but he kept squeezing till the knife thudded to the cage floor, then he smashed her hand against the bars, and wheeled around to face her. **

**"Don't do me any favors then," he said and swiped the blood from his neck slowly, holding her eyes with his, promising more if he ever got the chance.**

**"Count on it, fool!" she sneered, backing away.**

**Donovan shook his head, confused. One minute she was all over him and the next, she was sticking knives into him. Her moods, he decided, were mercurial.**

_**Like someone else he had known.**_

**The image of a long-haired beauty superimposed itself on Ana's malicious face, that of a young college student who taunted and teased him until he exacted the wild retribution she craved. **

_**Mercury**_**.**

**Ana swung up the lantern she held and the image was gone. He blinked and watched her stalk off in the direction of the female barracks, flexing the hand he had smashed against the cage. He let his head drop back against the bars, expelling the shuddering breath he had been holding. Drawing up his knees, he rested his hands on them, the knowledge of Ben's death and fear for the girl's life crowding in on him. **

**The image of a woman he had tried to forget hovered there too.**

**The moon caught the shine of a blade on the floorboards at his ankle.**

**His knife. Ana had used his own knife on his throat. **

**He eyed it with mistrust. Was this a test? To see if he would ignore it and wait, a loyal soldier, to accept his punishment? Or was it a trap? If he used it to saw at the bars, were they waiting in the undergrowth to shoot him down as he ran? **

**Donovan gave himself another moment to work through his options, then picked up the knife. He already knew its blade could slice smoothly into the wood as if it were butter. Or his neck.**

**In under a minute, he had the ropes at his wrists cut and three saplings split top and bottom, giving himself enough room to slip through. Replacing his knife into its empty sheath, he dropped silently to the ground, crouched ready for action as he surveyed the area. No one came crashing through the trees. There was no movement at all, not even from the night-dwellers, now silent.**

**He ran softly, going low, toward the belt of trees and ferns that made up the outer perimeter of the camp. Slipping though the wide fronded ferns, his heart jerked at the sound of a rifle shot. It **_**was**_** a trap. Ana had set him up. **

**He ducked, keeping low and weaving, bracing himself for a slug in the back. He heard a rifle again, and a bullet slammed into a tree trunk to his left. Dropping to his belly, he pulled his knife and lay unmoving in the forest litter. His heart raced but he deliberately slowed his breathing, straining to identify the direction of the pursuit, ready to move in any direction, fast.**

**The air thrust from his lungs and his jaw jarred against the ground, rattling his teeth in his skull. His ribs were pressed into the dirt and two hands were around his throat. One shifted, chopping his wrist hard, forcing him to drop the knife.**

**"Bad mistake," Ana spat, her breath fanning his neck, knees digging into his waist. She retrieved the knife and he heard the whisper of steel as she sheathed it. **

**Donovan groaned. The bitch must be half gazelle to have gained on and tackled him. Her weight shifted and lifted and she yanked him to his feet by his collar. Before he could retaliate, she shoved a**** rifle barrel into his back, then slammed her fist into his shoulder, forcing him to face**** her.**

**"You need to learn a lesson, Cubillos," Ana said, her face triumphant in the moonlight. "And I'll be the one to teach you."**

**He heard heavy footfalls and shouts behind her. Her back-up had arrived. The trap was complete and he had been fool enough to fall for it. Fighting her would be pointless. His mind spun for one parting shot to take back with him.**

**"I learnt before I was in my teens," he said, his voice filled with scorn, "that pulling wings off flies and pinning live bugs to boards proved nothing but immaturity."**

**Ana growled, her knuckles showing white on the rifle barrel aimed at his heart. **

_**Good, she was intelligent enough for him not to have to spell it out for her.**_

**The rifle sight dropped toward his groin, but he knew she was only taunting him, playing with him. He wasn't impressed and proved it by holding her gaze boldly. **

**Ana stepped aside as two other soldiers joined them. One of them produced a rope and pinned Donovan wrists behind him.**

**"So, what was all this about?" Donovan asked Ana, grimacing from the rough handling. His flight could now have exposed his cover through his lack of respect for their code. "What is the point of allowing me to escape, only to capture me again?"**

**"Because this way, as your newest captor," Ana moved in close, "I get to wield the whip."**

**This was only about power.**

**Her power over him.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

**Donovan jarred awake, heart hammering and rolled fast. His hands were still tied behind him, his wrists burning from the chafe of the rope. Finding his footing, he squatted, muscles bunched, facing the noise which had woken him and saw Paco Florés' face peering through the bars of the cage. **

**"You dropped off again, Cubillos," Florés shouted, banging the cage with his rifle. "And you've got visitors." **

**Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Donovan turned to the sound of rapid footsteps. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, his night guard keeping him awake at all times. Ana Diaspora approached his cage with a spring in her step, flanked by two other women as due her rank within the unit. **

_**She can't wait.**_

**Legs trembling from cramp, Donovan stretched out of his crouch to face her. His head hit the top of the cage and he fell back on his knees. Lifting his chin, he swallowed with difficulty, his tongue thick from lack of water, but he made sure his eyes were steady as they met Ana's.**

**"I enjoy seeing you on your knees before me, Cubillos," Ana said, brightly. Coming right up to the cage, her smile slipped into a frown, then she swung around to glare at Florés. "What have you been doing to him?" she snapped. "He looks exhausted."**

_**Had Ana found a heart during the night? **_**Ana Diaspora, the Tin Lady. Donovan almost laughed as he tried to slot her into the children's fantasy story. The Wicked Witch of the East was a more likely caricature.**

**"Hell," Florés grumbled. "If I had to stay awake and guard him all night, I wasn't about to listen to him snore."**

**"Idiot!" Ana snapped. "I don't want him sliding into exhaustion at the pole. I want him to feel everything. **_**Endure**_** everything."**

_**So much for her finding a heart.**_

**Ana turned back to stare at Donovan. "Don't think that this will postpone your sentence, Cubillos."**

**"I didn't…" Donovan rasped, then stopped. His first words of the morning sounded like he was choking through cotton wool. "I wouldn't do… anything so foolish," he finished.**

**"Get him out," Ana ordered. She stepped back and Donovan saw her gaze fall on the adjacent cage, which now had a gaping hole courtesy of his knife. She glanced back at him and smiled again, the slow grin of the vanquisher.**

**Florés fumbled in his pockets before pulling out a key and grabbing the padlock. Ana's guards stepped forward and flanked both sides of the cage door. **

**Sauntering up to Donovan, Ana leaned her back against the bars, then turned her head to look at him. "The feeling was good, was it not?" she asked, her voice low. "That bid for freedom? The thrill of the chase?" She pushed off the bars and faced him, eye to eye. "But then to be captured again. By a woman!"**

**Donovan stared back. "I never thought you made Sub-Commander because you were incompetent." **

**Her smile was sheer triumph and she pivoted away from him as Florés swung the cage door open.**

**"I never thought of you as human either, much less a woman," Donovan added.**

**His knee contacted with the edge of the cage as Florés yanked him from his perch. Pain exploded in his leg and shot in jarring arcs up his back. He sprawled in the dirt and a booted foot slammed into the back of his neck before he could recover. **

**"Let him go," Ana ordered. The foot lifted but two more nudged his chin and he looked up the length of Ana's body to stop at her eyes. They were cold and heartless.**

**"Oh, I'm human," she said. "And you had your chance, Cubillos. You threw it away. Now you get to throw your life away."**

**"Get up!" Florés kicked him in the side and Donovan flinched, his hollow stomach causing a wave of dizziness that made him bend forward, dry-retching. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed with his legs, pivoted on a shoulder and side-kicked Florés' feet from under him. The big man thudded to the ground. **

**"Mora! Luju!" Ana shouted.**

**Donovan was hauled to his feet, kicking air instead of Florés' head. Ana's two guards had him by both arms but anger, fueled by adrenalin, kept him struggling, ignoring the futility of it.**

**"Florés! You're dismissed," Ana snapped. "Go stick your head in a trough."**

**Ana swung around to Donovan. "Cubillos, you should start making friends, not enemies. You're going to need them." **

**"If I ever get my hands free," he promised, pulling hard against Mora's and Luju's hold, "you're going to need them too."**

**Ana laughed and stepped back. "Take him!"**

**The guards thrust Donovan forward and he stumbled then righted himself. They followed Florés' back and Donovan amused himself by alternating between sighting an imaginary gun at Florés thick fleshy neck and swinging it around to aim between the eyes of Ana walking behind him.**

**The path between the prisoners' cages and the quadrangle was short and well-worn and within minutes they were back in the training area. Donovan immediately noticed the addition to the center flagpole – a crossbar fixed at right-angles about six feet from the ground. **

**The men Donovan had seen flogged on this crossbar had borne the lash at first but had succumbed to screaming and begging before collapsing at the end. No limit was placed on the number of strokes, but bets were taken on the victim's endurance. No one had made it past thirty. Donovan's chest tightened at the thought of his being the one to be tied to it, stripped to the waist, his back flayed, by someone who already derived a perverse pleasure in taunting him.**

**The quadrangle was deserted, both the headquarters building and its matching mess hall silent, but the latter's chimney was chuffing out smoke in preparation for mess call. The area would soon fill with witnesses. Viewing the spectacle wasn't compulsory, but both Ben and Donovan had observed as part of their cover. **

_**Ben. **_

**Donovan's heart clenched again at the loss of his friend. **

**"What did they do with Ramaya's body?" he asked Ana as the women pushed him toward the flagpole. He stumbled, the post breaking his fall, then righted himself.**

**Ana frowned and pursed her lips. "Why do you want to know?"**

**"He was my friend."**

**"He was a traitor."**

**Donovan took a quick breath, fearing they had been exposed. "In what way?"**

**"He fled instead of paying the consequences."**

**Donovan's nerves jarred, packing adrenalin into his bloodstream. "I fled–"**

**Ana laughed and waved**** her lieutenants away. "****Nestor wanted Ramaya dead for his impudence****." She stroked her hand down the side of Donovan's face, and he jerked away. Her eyes narrowed, then cleared, as if an unpleasant thought had been replaced by a captivating idea. "You, Cubillos, will be better sport… alive." **

**Anger seethed through Donovan as she stepped behind him. He felt her slip the knot of the rope from his wrists, then she grabbed both hands to lift them to the crossbar. He resisted, tugged down sharply, spinning her around and thrust her hard against the flagpole. Following through with his body, he pinned her there. **

**"Not so easy to subdue me as you would believe?" he gritted in her face with a small measure of satisfaction, then his hands flew wide as he was dragged from her by her guards. Ana jumped forward and slapped him, his left cheek taking the stinging brunt of it. Donovan struggled against the women's hold, grunting with the effort to get to Ana. He just wanted to get two hands on her throat–**

**"Release him!" The unexpectedness of Ana's order froze him and made Luju and Mora slow to comply. **

**Ana swung her rifle from her back and leant it against the flagpole. Unsheathing her knife, she tossed it behind her, then stood with her legs apart and fists clenched by her side. **

**"Let him go," she repeated. The guards dropped Donovan's arms and stood back.**

**Donovan knew what Ana wanted and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity. Nor was he going to make the mistake of fighting fair. It wasn't the way of these guerrillas. **

"**Ana!"**

**Nestor tripped lightly down the steps of their headquarters. "Get on with it!"**

**Mora and Luju rushed forward and jabbed their rifles into each of Donovan's shoulders, thrusting him to the ground. **

**"Vindictive bitch, isn't she, Cubillos?" Nestor asked, laughing. "You could have taken her off my hands for me, but now I'm stuck with her again, and you've become a problem."**

**Picking himself up out of the dirt, Donovan felt a flash of uneasiness grab him. "I never encouraged her–"**

**'That's not what I mean." Nestor pursed his lips and sighed heavily. "Your assault of me yesterday in the tavern was foolhardy and presumptuous."**

**Straightening slowly, Donovan stared hard at Nestor. "I was defending a friend–" **

**Nestor shook his head. "Your loyalty is to the cause first and your leader second. Everything else comes an unimportant last. I'm afraid your worth to this unit is at an end."**

**Donovan's uneasiness escalated into alarm. "I don't understand–" **

**"It's simple really. You will be stripped of your uniform and after this morning's retribution, you will be treated as a prisoner until I deem it time to enlighten us of our burden of you. Or until Ana tires of you, whichever comes first. Until then, she will be in charge of your well-being and… well, that will be punishment enough." **

**Ana laughed, moving to the other side of the flagpole. "He's already had a taste of how well I look after my property," she said, leveling her rifle at Donovan. **

**Nestor yawned and moved off, heading for the mess hall. "I'll see you at breakfast, Ana."**

**"I won't be long," she said. "Luju, take off the prisoner's shirt and tie him to the bar. If he gives you trouble, I'll wound him for you."**

**With his usefulness as an operative in Nestor's band now at an all-time low, Donovan determined escape was his only alternative. His blood running cold from the look of malicious hunger on Ana's face, it wasn't a difficult decision to make. It was just a matter of how.**

**Ana's rifle was aimed at his stomach and Donovan steeled himself as Luju and Mora removed his shirt and dragged him back to the flagpole. Seizing his wrists, they secured his arms with rope along the crossbar, then stood back, still at attention. He rested his forehead on the cool metal of the flagpole, shutting out Ana's avid gaze on him, and factored his options. Right now, there weren't any. After this… He had to get **_**through**_** this first. **

**Swinging her rifle over her back, Ana came around to stand behind him.**

**"How did you get so many bruises?" she asked, genuine confusion tempering her voice.**

**"Courtesy of your friend Paco Florés," Donovan mocked. **

**"He's no friend of mine. He's nothing but a bully."**

_**And you're not?**_

**He felt her move in close behind him and then her hands were soft on his bare back. He held his breath, confused, as they smoothed themselves downward, then round his waist to grab the front of his trousers. Shocked by what she intended, he tried to pull his hips away but her hands slipped onto his groin and held. He grunted and froze. Dragging her hands back to his zip, she slid it down, then slipped his trousers down over his hips. **

**Donovan bucked against her touch. "Get your filthy hands off–"**

**She cupped his crotch again, gripping harder and a deep ache clawed at him. He felt the muscles in his face twist and bunch as he squeezed his eyes shut. Panting through the pain, he stopped fighting her and she let him go. She slid her hands the rest of the way down his thighs, taking the coarse material with them.**

**"How do you like your first lesson in humility, Cubillos?" she breathed onto the back of his neck.**

**He ground his jaw as one of her hands slipped into his jockey shorts. "Since when do floggings involve a full strip?" he gritted.**

**"Since I changed the rules," she said, laughing softly. **

**He felt the touch of cold steel smooth itself across his abdomen and then slide down. His eyes snapped open and he heaved in his stomach as Ana's knife sliced cleanly through the material of his shorts and they fell in tatters at his feet. **

**This wasn't about a flogging. Ana was coming up with new methods to humiliate him. His muscles ached from the effort it took to remain passive as she fondled him in front of the other women. **

**"Spread your legs or I'll spread them for you," she whispered.**

**A helpless fury swept him as her hands free-reined his body. He shifted only slightly, but it was enough because she crowed with delight and stepped back. He took a huge gulp of air and shuddered. **

**"Luju, Mora," Ana commanded, "relieve him of his boots and trousers and add them back to the store with his shirt. He won't be needing them anymore. But… don't play with anything while you do it. He's my toy." She then pressed up against his back again and put her lips to his ear. "I'll be back in an hour. Enjoy the cool morning air on your fine skin." She bit down on his lobe and pulled hard. "Before I rip it apart."**

**"Ana…" He wrenched his head away, ignoring the further pain to his ear. "Before you go–"**

**"What is it?"**

**"You didn't have to go to such lengths you know," he said quietly, staring ahead.**

**"What do you mean?"**

**"This… parade of supremacy." He swung his head around to look at her. "You have no idea, do you? The true control of a woman over a man? This is only the power of rifles and knives and ropes."**

**"Stop speaking in riddles." She moved around the flagpole to face him, irritation twisting her features.**

**Donovan hid none of his hatred of her as he searched her hard features. "A woman's power is her inner strength under her softness, her ability to bring a man to his knees with her compassion and selflessness. Your control of me will disappear as soon as the restraints do."**

**She stared at him, her mouth slack, then clamped down on her jaw. "You're a fool, Cubillos," she said, but he heard her voice weaken with uncertainty. **

**He ****almost smiled until he remembered that insults weren't going to save him from the beating.**

**"And I **_**will**_** bring you to your knees," Ana added, then spun on her heel and headed for the mess hall. **

**oOo**

**Donovan attracted a lot of interest in the time he waited for Ana to return. He hardened himself to the jeers and crude remarks of the soldiers as they moved from their barracks to the mess hall, rounding his shoulders and focusing on staying upright on his cross. By closeting his emotions, he tried to show nothing of the degradation he felt. **

**Camp breakfast was being served and his empty stomach growled from the aromas teasing him. Breakfast was always a main meal to sustain the unit through the hours of training and marching on patrol. Donovan imagined the usual bacon sizzling on large open grills behind the mess hall, the sausages stuffed with several meats and local herbs. If the chickens they kept laid enough the day before, eggs and fried tomatoes were sought-after side dishes. Field-grown potatoes were sliced and oiled and crisped in the meat juices and the bread baked in the camp ovens inside was the freshest he had ever tasted. While he didn't like Nestor's choice in Sub-Commanders, Donovan had to accede that he excelled himself when recruiting chefs. **

**Donovan's dry mouth feebly tried to moisten and his stomach churned as he watched the unit come and go, their bellies full and mouths foul with lurid suggestions.**

**His blood roiled.**

**He decided Ana would pay for her treatment of him.**

**Lifting his chin, he shouted to the sky. "Ana! Ana Diaspora!" **

**He knew she wouldn't answer immediately, so he filled his lungs and bellowed again. "Ana Diaspora, bitch-coward in heat!" He continued to call out her name and insult her, growing louder and coarser with each shout. He heard laughing from the mess hall and more jeers, then they started ordering him to shut up, but he kept up his call, fueled by the thought she would feel how it was to be the subject of ridicule. **

**Finally, there was the sound of a chair crashing against a wall and Ana appeared at the door at the far end of the mess hall. He watched her stride down the length of the open verandah to the central steps then descend them two at a time.**

**"Bastard! Shut your mouth!" She strode over to him.**

**"Not till you feed me."**

**She thrust her face into his. "I'm more likely to gut you!"**

**He smiled slowly, holding her outraged stare. "I don't think you will. That would end it too soon and take all the fun out of it, wouldn't it?"**

**"Bastard!" She slapped him. **

**Donovan felt empowered by not even turning his head to the force of it this time, but instead, his eyes never left hers, and he hoped she could see the hard, twisting fury he felt inside. **

**"I'm your prisoner," Donovan said, measuring each word. "I can't feed myself. It's up to you. So, feed me." **

**"You'll get my scraps if you're lucky!"**

**"I don't want your scraps. I want food and water!" He took a deep breath, gaining momentum. "If I'm to endure your little games, wouldn't you rather I'm conscious? If I've fainted from hunger or am delirious from lack of water, am I going to dance to your tune? I thought you had more intelligence, Sub-Commander."**

**"Open your mouth again," Ana warned, her voice low, "and I'll stuff it with the rags they use to clean out the latrines." She glared at him then pivoted on her heel and headed toward the headquarters building. **

**Donovan expelled a half-groan. It didn't matter if she came back with food or not. He wanted her to see how ineffectual was her punishment of him.**

**And by the rigid carriage of her back and the stiffness of her stride, he knew he had succeeded.**

**oOo**

**By the time Ana returned, there was already a crowd growing, milling around him. He closed his eyes to the smirks and leers and his ears to their catcalls and insults. He was well past humiliation; he really just had murder on his mind. The flogging was no doubt at Nestor's order, but it was Ana's blood he wanted. With Nestor, it was a code of discipline. With her, it was personal and that bound her to him in a uniquely intimate way. **

**"Ready, Cubillos?"**

**Donovan opened eyes dry and raspy from exhaustion. The sun was climbing higher in the sky and his skin was hot and tight. He saw Ana's image shimmer in front of him, legs astride. She had shed her uniform shirt and wore a khaki cut-off vest with her standard trousers and replaced her rifle with a thin-handled whip, the leather long and tough-looking. **

**He dry-swallowed several times before he was able to answer. "And if I'm not?" **

**"You look ready."**

**He took in the sight of her smooth, toned body, and just wanted to be finished with it. "You look good, bitch," he grated, not caring that he was baiting someone hell-bent on inflicting pain on him, "but not good enough for me."**

**Ana's eyes dilated and she shrilled a cry of rage. The tongue of her whip flew high above her head and cracked onto the ground, exploding the dirt at her feet. **

**Donovan flinched and the gathering crowd murmured with excitement. **

**"Ana!" Nestor shouted from behind. "Exercise a little restraint or get someone else to do your job for you."**

**Ana ****continued to glare at Donovan. "Why, Cubillos? There is no sense in angering me."**

**Donovan lifted his head, confused by her softening. "Where… is the sense… in what you are doing?"**

**"In the tavern… you used me, all the while thinking you were too good for me," she sneered. "How superior do you feel now?" **

_**What the hell. **_**Donovan filled his lungs. "If your breasts were laden with milk, Ana Diaspora," he shouted for the crowd's benefit, "… and the only drink for miles…" He mustered what strength he had to finish. "…I'd **_**still**_** refuse you." **

**Someone behind him hooted with appreciation while others laughed and applauded. Ana yelled again and sweeping around Donovan, cracked her whip into the dirt once more. The onlookers went quiet on cue, then he heard the hiss as the leather rose for the strike that would connect. **

**All coherent thought left him as the lash bit into his back. A searing heat radiated up and out and then fell back to engulf. Despite being forewarned by the whisper of the upsweep, Donovan couldn't fully prepare himself for the cruelty of the strike. **

**Another strike came quickly, and his skin broke into a drenching sweat, his ****mind roaring with white noise, piercing and consuming. A low harsh cry he couldn't prevent, locked in his throat. **

**The air whistled again and with this blow, Donovan dropped his head to his chest fighting waves of nausea and saw the tip of the lash writhe in the dirt at his feet. It flicked away then disappeared, and he heard its savage whisk as it came for him once more. His back exploded again and the grunt escaped him this time as the air left his lungs, his knees giving way before he locked them again. He couldn't get his head back up, so he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the lash lick at his feet, but worse, he didn't want to see it leave to strike again.**

**But he heard its warning. And the thwack as it tore into his skin. Then the fire raged anew. He threw his head back, lips curled from his teeth, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. His forehead throbbed, his neck tight as he swallowed the howl trying to escape his throat. **

**Another hit and his already raw wrists slammed against their ropes. Pain bloomed, then spread from his back and encompassed him, swift and poker-hot.**

**Someone was counting each lash and the numbers jarred in his head with the thud of a heavy broken bell. ****He was sweating and shivering, his body trying to equalize the torture as the lash struck and fell to rise again.**

**Donovan heard 'thirteen' and his back was a recurring explosion of fire, his knees refused to hold him upright and his brain was already threatening to shut consciousness down. ****He could do this, he thought through a red haze, he could ride this through, but enough was enough. He wanted out. **

**Time stopped but the lash didn't. He was aware of little else but its strike and glide through the inferno eating i****nto his back. Strike and glide.**

**'Twenty-five' was called but his awareness was somewhere above him where he seemed to be observing this battered naked body hanging limply by its arms. ****Donovan couldn't recall who was doing this to him or why. **

**He lost sense of everything except the regular unrelenting tempo of the whip's beat and his absolute refusal to cry out.**

**"Thirty-six…" came to him as a striking snake through the screaming in his brain.**

_**Was that him screaming? **_**He prayed it wasn't.**

**Donovan never felt the thirty-seventh as he slid into a harsh void.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

**Donovan couldn't move.**

**He was naked, lying on his stomach on a stretcher, its dry hemp prickling his cheek and jaw. His eyes fixated on a dirty glazed window, through which sunlight struggled, signaling the start of another routine day of calisthenics, training, friendly skirmishes and invasion drill for the guerrilla unit.**

**But not for him.**

**The night had been long, oppressively dark and nightmare-ridden with grotesque beings, striking snakes and clawing cats, shredding flesh and ripping at it with their bloodied mouths. Pain rippled in and out of his dreams and wakefulness, fusing the two into a grisly reality.**

**He had woken groggily, until the white hot pain speared his back, bringing the memory of the whipping into agonizing clarity. Donovan wouldn't – couldn't – turn his head, but he thought he recognized where he was – the infirmary that doubled as a morgue. **

_**I'm not dead yet!**_

**Donovan shook his head sharply and his back splintered in protest. His brain was rambling and he needed to kick into gear. He swallowed hard over a parched throat and his tongue felt thick and alien as he tried to moisten cracked lips.**

**The infirmary was a small building behind and at right angles to the guerrillas' headquarters, close enough for personnel to administer to the needs of the sick, but far enough away to negate risk of infection. He remembered that it consisted of one room, lined with canvas stretchers, bare and blood-stained and used as makeshift beds. The dead, soldiers lost in battle, were stored at one end behind a heavy cotton curtain. **

**Donovan wondered, with a lurching of his stomach, if Ben were there.**

**He considered rolling off his bed just to relieve the stiffness in his body but it was beyond him. His back felt as if thousands of needles were being jabbed and ripped out in cycles, moving and shifting and finding new nerves to torture. He closed his eyes and gave himself another minute to bear it. **

**A hand touched his shoulder from behind and he jumped, groaning loud and long, agony jack-knifing through his back and thumping in rapid waves, cascading into his head.**

**"Don't move," a woman's voice said. "This ointment will deaden the pain." **

**He heard the command through the cruel tide that raced through his head and knew it was Ana's voice, devoid of its usual taunts. She lightly touched his back again and he bit back another yelp. As she smoothed her palm over his lacerated skin, Donovan couldn't prevent the groans rippling from his throat.**

**"Why… are… you… doing this?" His voice was hoarse and alien to him.**

**"You've done your penance. Now I will nurse you back to health and we will be lovers, yes?"**

**Donovan's mind twisted with licks of confusion and horror, all jockeying for attention. He tried to turn his head to look at her, but the effort was too great. His chin collapsed back onto the rough cot and he squeezed his eyes shut as her hands stroked his back.**

**"I…" He ran his tongue over his lips but there was no moisture to wet them. "I… won't… ever–" He could barely make the words intelligible.**

**"No more talk. Just get better." **

**Donovan felt Ana lean forward and a wet sweet-tasting rag was placed against his lips. He sucked at it greedily, his slurping noises adding to the clamor in his head. The rag was taken away and he moaned in protest, but it returned, dripping and cool. When he had drained it, it disappeared and he felt Ana kiss the back of his neck. He wanted to object but didn't have the strength to stop her or even avoid her. **

**"We'll be so good, you and I," Ana whispered, her breath warm on his shoulder.**

**A savage trembling racked his body as she ran her nails down either side of his waist to his hips and across his flanks. He was appalled she could think this would bind him to her in any way. He needed to protest more, but his eyes were heavy and closing. **

**The denial never formed.**

**oOo**

**Dreams continued to plague Donovan's sleep, and when next he woke, his cheek was numb where it lay on the hard cot, his arms draped over each side. The nightmare receded, losing substance, but Donovan still sensed the familiar aftermath of lashing snakes and razor fangs.**

**The same agony laced his back and he needed to beat it this time. Gritting his teeth, he bunched his shoulders, locked his pelvis and knees and managed to raise his neck high enough to look around, enduring the tight heat blazing up his back to his skull.**

**As well as the rows of dirty cots along each length of wall, there was one long flat metal table in the center and beside it stood a small gurney, laden with knives and short-handled instruments he couldn't recognize and a large battered metal bowl. Donovan could smell the odor of disinfectant, sickly sweet and heavy. **

**And once again he wasn't alone. Ana approached him from behind, coming around the bed with a ceramic bowl and spoon in her hand. He groaned in dismay, dropped back onto the cot and shut his eyes, cursing himself for reacting.**

**"Good, you're awake," she said, cheerfully. "It's about time we got some food into you."**

**The thought of food immediately made his stomach turn and he dry-retched where he lay, the pain in his back intensifying, forcing a high-pitched whistle through his teeth. A red haze blurred his vision.**

**"Don't worry," Ana said. "We'll take it a little at a time." She leaned forward and smoothed a hand down his cheek. "You need a shave."**

**Donovan wanted to scream at her that he didn't give a damn. Instead, he used his energy on something more important. "W…water," he rasped through dry lips.**

**She leaned down and he heard the sound of soft splashing at her feet. Donovan lifted his chin eagerly and Ana straightened to hold the wet rag to his lips. As before, it was sweet and cool. He sucked hard on it, ignoring his being at this woman's mercy, intent only on alleviating this consuming thirst.**

**After his second drink, Ana offered the spoon and touched it to his lips. "Just get the taste of this. No more." **

**He'd never heard such gentleness in her voice and he knew to be wary of it, not trusting this caring side of her. Donovan explored the spoon with his tongue. It tasted slightly salty and herbal. Ana dipped the spoon in the bowl and offered the broth to him again, this time with slightly more for him to sample. He raised his chin from the cot, his neck aching, and winced as his lacerations jabbed a protest, then accepted the spoon and the process repeated itself, his eyes never leaving hers.**

**Shaking his head, he signaled when he'd had enough, and let his cheek rest against the rough bed. She put the bowl and spoon at her feet, Donovan watching every movement. **

**Ana smiled at him, then leaned forward. He braced himself but she only ran her fingers through his scalp. **

**"Your hair… feels so soft," she said.**

**"Why are you doing this?" he snarled, unable to move out of her reach. **

**"I want you better," Ana said, her eyes wide, but the innocence in them had long since disappeared. "It's my job to look after you."**

**"No, you're setting me up again."**

**"So suspicious, Cubillos." Ana smoothed a hand down his arm and gripped his wrist. "Can't you feel it?" she asked with ingénue. "I care about your recovery."**

**He tensed and flung her hand from him. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, shoulders hunched, Donovan gasped with the effort. "Whatever it is you want… I'm not going to–"**

**Ana moved, her knife at his throat, piercing the skin. "Cubillos, you are such a foolish man." **

**And Donovan was in familiar territory again, bizarrely relieved to see the real Ana reappear. **

**"The only reason you are alive," she grated, "is because I haven't finished with you. You are mine, to do with as I will. Any resistance will be met with punishment, the severity of the retribution reflecting the magnitude of the crime." **

**Ana flicked the knife, arcing it upward and Donovan heard it scrape through his beard to his chin and felt the warm trickle of blood down his throat. **

**He grabbed her wrist and twisted it away from him, then using desperation and what energy he had, pushed himself off the cot and onto his feet. His legs refused to support him. He went down, his hip crashing on the bare floorboards, head cracking on wood. He felt nerveless and disorientated and looked up to see Ana's face floating above him. **

**There was an answering crash as the infirmary door flew open and Donovan felt the vibration of footsteps on the floor. He heard voices, muffled one minute, magnified the next, coming to him in snatches. **

**"What happened?"**

**"–'s okay. I don't need you."**

**"–got violent?"**

**"Nothing I couldn't handle. Leave–"**

**"–'sposed to be in the room with you…"**

**"I don't want you to be. I can handle it."**

**"… till the time you can't. Commander Casarés–"**

**"I said I can handle it! Now help me with him."**

**Donovan was manhandled onto his stomach onto the bed, the pain punching through his delirium before it was gone, drug-diluted. The voices drifted off and Donovan tried to follow them with his eyes, but saw no one. His neck wouldn't turn and his body wouldn't move. **

**He stared at the bed opposite him and watched it undulate and fade away.**

**oOo**

**Donovan's strength returned slowly. Too slowly.**

**Ana visited twice a day, fed him and applied ointment to his back. He endured her attention, but observed each gesture with mistrust. When he was able to sit up, she tied his hands in front of him, continuing to hand-feed him and deny him his independence.**

**But she didn't pretend she had his best interests at heart any more. **

**She used even the smallest excuse to abuse him. A complaint about his lack of clothes earned him a slap across the face, his request to use the camp latrines instead of the infirmary pots prompted her to add a new slash to his back with her knife and when he accused her of drugging him and hindering his recovery, she held her knife to his throat and asked him how fast would he recover without his head. That didn't stop him from goading her though. It was the only entertainment afforded to him.**

**The day Donovan felt strong enough to resist Ana physically, the guards rushed to her aid, their rifles leveled. He backed down, unable to compete with two loaded weapons aimed at his stomach.**

**"Watch him!" Ana ordered, and strode out the door, leaving Luju and Mora standing at attention in front of him. Donovan wondered if they realized the incongruity of two fully armed women guarding a weakened naked male on a stretcher.**

**Ana returned too soon with a tree branch over four feet long and as thick as her arm. **

**Donovan eyed the bough warily. "Is this necessary?"**

**"Just taking precautions, Cubillos," she said, placing it on one of the empty beds. "I can't trust you to behave."**

**"Then let me go." **

**Ana shook her head. "You don't get off that easy."**

**"**_**Easy**_**?" He rolled the word off his tongue with contempt. "'Easy' is plunging a knife into your heart." He raised his tied wrists in the air and despite the torment in his back, made a stabbing motion downward with them. "'Easy' is squeezing my hands around your throat till you stop breathing."**

**Swinging her rifle from her shoulder, Ana raised it above her head and arced downward, pounding the butt of weapon into his right shoulder. He saw it coming but his reflexes were too slow and the impetus sent him back and sideways off the bed to land in a fetal position on the floor. **

**"You need to know your place, Cubillos. Get up!"**

**He dragged himself into a sitting position, bracing his bound fists on the edge of the cot to stare at her, his lips curling.**

**She flicked her head at Luju and Mora, who leaned down, grabbed him by his upper arms and hauled him to his feet. Donovan struggled for his footing, kicking the frame of the cot so that it slammed into Ana's shins.**

**He enjoyed her grimace of pain as he defiantly shrugged the guards off, but his freedom was short-lived. Ana stepped forward, her knife drawn and grabbed his wrists, cutting the rope. She then swept the knife up to his chin and poised it there.**

**"Now ladies," she said, seething into his face. "Finish what you started."**

**The guards each grabbed a wrist, and Donovan grunted as they twisted his arms down and back, immobilizing him. Ana stepped back to collect the yoke, moving to the rear with it and placing it across his shoulders. Luju and Mora swung his hands up and slapped them to each end of the branch, its roughness cutting into his wounds. **

**Bracing his legs, Donovan cursed them and yanked for control of his hands. Ana yelled and thumped her elbow into his temple. His head exploded into reeling blackness as his legs collapsed under him. Wheezing through the vertigo, he fought to stay conscious.**

**The branch was secured and Ana stood back, panting from the effort. Mora and Luju heaved him to his feet and let go. **

**Donovan swayed where he stood. "All you've done is given me something to open up your head with," he snarled, swinging the branch at Ana. **

**She jumped back and with a flick of her wrist, Donovan felt a thud somewhere near his right ear. His eyes locked with hers in confusion, then he realized his right arm felt strange, a numbness creeping through it that wasn't quite right. **

**Turning slowly to look at his shoulder, he saw her knife protruding from the soft flesh under his upper arm, its blade embedded firmly in the branch to which he was strapped. He watched as blood dripped from the wound. Donovan damned his still weakened condition, as, before he could stop them, his knees buckled to the floor. **

**"Now, if you don't want a matching pair, I suggest you stay still while I dress you." Ana reached into her trouser pocket and shook out a wide strip of soft-looking leather with ties attached to each corner.**

**Donovan tried to keep his eyes focused but his head was bearing down on his chest. He dragged his chin back up, refusing to bow down to Ana's pathetic attempts at humiliating him. "My… own uniform–"**

**"–is no longer available to you."**

**"Why… are you bothering? I won't–"**

**"Yes. You will. Stand up." **

**He ignored her.**

**The muzzle of a rifle was jabbed into his temple and stayed.**

_**Dead men don't escape, Donovan. Nor do they get even.**_

**Bunching the muscles in his knees and thighs, then planting a foot to the floor, he slowly rose. Ana's eyes darted over his nakedness and he saw her take a quick breath. **

**"You look good, Cubillos," she said huskily and meeting her eyes, he saw it. Her need. Her weakness. She wanted him to fight her. He steeled himself and waited, not giving her the satisfaction.**

**Ana yanked her knife from his arm and he winced, his lips parting on a slight huff. Her hands went out to touch him and the leather she held was soft and smooth on his skin. Ana dropped her eyes to follow her hands as they moved from his ribs down over his stomach, his abs locking. **

**"My arm," he said hoarsely, conscious of his blood flowing from the knife wound.**

**"Luju! Get a bandage," Ana ordered, not taking her eyes from him. "You'll live, Cubillos. I took care to bypass anything major."**

**"I'll be forever grateful," he said sarcastically.**

**Ana laughed softly as the leather she held danced lower to his groin. "Don't fight your natural instincts, Cubillos. I want you to struggle." Her tongue moistened her lips.**

**His eyes narrowed and he mustered up a smile. Exposing her need made it all that simpler for him. "You're not worth it."**

**Ana hissed in a breath and then bit her lip, as if she too realized she was weakening her position. Her hands jerked on his hips as she tied the loin cloth to his body. **

**"There," she said. "That will keep the avid eyes of the rest of the women and the gay boys from you." She ran her hands down his flanks. "Can't hide this lean body from them though, because I like to admire it too." **

**Donovan felt her mood change subtly, the desire to humiliate him layered with something darker and more chilling.**

**Ana stepped back and jerked her head at the guards. "Bring him!" **

**"Where… are we going?" he asked, stumbling as he was pushed from behind.**

**"Just a little walk around the compound to stretch your legs," Ana said lightly. "But…" She turned back to grin at him. "Tomorrow will be much more fun."**

**oOo**

_**"I've seen evil, Deputy Warden… you don't need to convince me of its existence…"**_

_**Frank Donovan: The Siege**_

_**Chapter Twenty**_

**Lying on his side on the narrow bed, Donovan was bored and uncomfortable. Though healing, his back felt itchy and inflamed, the side of his head throbbed with the swelling from Ana's latest blow, and now his right arm stung from a knife wound and a too tight bandage. But he felt clear-headed, which meant she wasn't drugging him anymore. **

**He wondered why. **

**Rolling off his cot, Donovan braced himself and waited until he could trust his legs to hold him. He checked the ropes that bound his wrists, then looked around, almost expecting Ana to drop out of the rafters. He noticed the gurney with the medical equipment was missing. If Ana was making sure there was no longer anything he could use to shatter a window, she'd overlooked the branch yoke propped against the door. **

**And he was still wearing the ridiculous loin cloth.**

**Walking toward the door, two women immediately barred his way, their rifles ready. They weren't Luju and Mora which meant Ana was elsewhere; maybe planning their 'fun day out' or devising other ways with which to humiliate him.**

**"Evening, Xandra, Romy," he said conversationally, approaching the guards and noting the lengthening shadows behind them, the perimeter trees tall and dark. If he could get past the women, two strides would take him across the narrow veranda and another two down the stairs to hit the dirt, running.**

**"I'll inform the Sub-Commander you're awake," said Romy, backing out quickly, heading for the steps. Donovan frowned. She seemed nervous around him and Xandra wouldn't meet his eyes either. For them, he had gone from comrade to humiliated prisoner, perhaps not understanding the game Ana was playing.**

**"Don't bother," Donovan said. "If I never see the bitch–" He stopped as Ana rounded the corner closest to the headquarters. **

**"Don't leave your posts! Ever!" Ana ordered. She approached them, hitching a knapsack over her back. "Idiots! He'll be waiting for the first opportunity–"**

**"Nice to see you have such faith in me, Sub-Commander." Donovan leaned against the door jamb, outwardly indolent but on high alert. If he barreled through these two women who seemed more concerned with their superior now, and took out Ana on the way, would he make it to that belt of trees before they recovered?**

**"Haven't you learned your lesson yet, Cubillos?" Ana asked. She halted at the base of the steps and stared up at him, hands on her hips.**

**He cleared his head of the mental picture of him, sprawled face-down with a knife in his back, and grimaced down at her. "Obviously not. I'd need a better teacher than the one I've got at the moment."**

**Ana glared up at him. "Yoke him!" she ordered, and the guards sprung to attention.**

**Pushing himself from the door, Donovan kicked the yoke away and barreled out, head down, to launch himself from the top of the steps straight at where Ana stood.**

**She was too quick. He missed her, his impact on the hard ground forcing the air from his lungs. Donovan gathered himself to roll to his feet, but a heavy boot thudded onto the back of his neck and stayed.**

**"Why do you bother?" Ana asked, grinding in her heel.**

**He spat dirt from his mouth. "Why do you bother to ask?"**

**She bent down and untied his wrists, then he felt her heel lift and the rough weight of the branch yoke landed on his shoulders. He bit down hard as she twisted his arms up and secured his wrists to either end, then hauled him to his feet.**

**"Bring him!" Ana ordered the guards, leading them toward the camp perimeter.**

**"Where… this time?" he asked, feeling the hard barrels of two rifles prod his back. **

**"It's time you had a bath."**

**Donovan's steps faltered. "And who do I need to smell sweet for, Sub-Commander? My lice-ridden stretcher? The non-existent room-service? **_**You!**_** I wouldn't waste my time."**

**Ana rounded on him in a fury. "Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth or I will stuff it with goat shit!"**

**Donovan froze, then his mouth curved into a wide grin. He was getting to her. He stared at her livid face and started laughing. **

**She slapped him, but he kept grinning, ignoring the sting, barely feeling it.**

**Ana swung the knapsack from her back and tossed it to the ground. Yanking it open, she searched inside, then pulled out her hand, revealing a long razor, its carbon steel blade gleaming dully. Taking a deep breath, she twirled it so that its silver sheen caught one cold ray of the sinking sun, the reflection momentarily blinding Donovan. **

**"I spent a lot of time and effort sharpening it this morning," she said, her voice now calm and low.**

**"A shave too, Sub-Commander?" asked Donovan, mocking her fondness for threatening him with knives. "Let's hope your hand is steady and you don't mistake my jugular for a dreadlock."**

**Ana lifted her brow, then let her eyes slide down his throat, his chest and lower, where it lingered. "Don't fear, Cubillos," she said, flicking her gaze back to his. "The blade's not going anywhere near your throat." **

**oOo **

**When the troupe broke tree cover, they were in a small glade that looked out upon one of several natural platforms in the water cascades that scalloped this side of the mountain. Donovan knew it well. Unlike the stepped pools above and below it, this waterhole was ideal for bathing and recreation and the guerrilla unit used it regularly. **

**Ana led them along a small path beside the shallows as Donovan scouted the area for avenues of escape. He had to accede that Ana knew what she was doing bringing him here. To dive into the pools below meant death or paralysis; to plunge through the robust trees surrounding the area would be hampered, if not prevented, by the yoke he wore across his back and exit via the path was barred by Ana's guards. He was effectively cornered. **

**"Sit," Ana said, pointing to the smooth stone platform near the water's edge. He pretended not to hear her and the look of frustration that crossed her face was becoming so familiar as to be entertaining. She strode back to him and dragged him by his injured arm, her fingers digging into his bandaged wound.**

**"Sit!" Spinning him around, Ana pushed hard. He fell against a large upright boulder, and would have cracked his head open if he hadn't managed to swing the yoke to his left to break his fall. **

**Donovan glowered at her as she leaned her rifle against a nearby rock and hunkered down in front of him. "Rifles ready!" she snapped at the guards watching them. "If he moves, wound him."**

**He didn't move, but watched her take deep steadying breaths, and vowed to capitalize on her uncharacteristic lack of control.**

**She pulled off her knapsack and retrieved the razor and studied it. **

**Donovan waited.**

**Ana looked at him then back at the razor, twirling it between her fingers with practiced dexterity.**

**The silence between them stretched, Donovan feeling his nerves tighten, his body poised and came to a decision. With flight impossible and a fight one-sided, he had nothing left to him but to lull Ana into the belief he was beaten. **

**"Tell me what you want, Sub-Commander," he said, making the first move. "I can't imagine you brought me ****from**** the infirmary all the way out here to castrate me, so what **_**is **_**this all about?"**

**Ana played with the razor's tip, scrutinizing it. "I told you. You used me in the tavern and insulted me."**

**"For which you've been amply compensated, don't you think?" He tossed his chin at his yoked and bandaged arm. "Our prisoners don't even suffer these indignities," indicating the loin cloth with another flick of his head, "and Nestor's soldiers pay for their indiscretions and then stand beside him again. What's going on?"**

**"We don't trust you."**

**"If that's the case," he said, "it would be easier for Nestor to just kill me. Instead, he's given me to you, as some sort of…" He spat the word. "…plaything." Donovan watched her closely, her face changing from dispassionate to thoughtful. "Tell me what you want, Ana," he said softly, deliberately using her name. "Perhaps I can accommodate you."**

**She stood up abruptly, the razor flashing in an arc across the front of his face so that he jerked back against the rock. "I want you clean and shaved, Cubillos. That's all you need know."**

**"I disagree," he said quickly, "…respectfully, Sub-Commander. If you tell me what you want, we can make this easier… for both of us." He gazed up at her, injecting as much sincerity into his face as he could, leaving himself vulnerable to repercussion should he fail.**

**Ana ignored him, palmed the blade, and turned away to pick up her knapsack. She emptied its contents onto the moss at her feet and picked up a metal bowl. Filling it with the spring water behind her, she threw it in his face.**

**Donovan gasped, shuddering with the shock of the icy deluge against his skin. Blinking through the water that dripped from his forehead, he bit down on his instinctive retort, determined to get Ana onside. He watched her refill the bowl, then pick up a tube.**

**"Now," said Ana, squeezing shaving cream into her palm, "if you still want to do things easier, I suggest you sit still." She crouched down in front of him and swiped the cream around his face, then flipped the razor out of her palm.**

**Donovan's gaze snared the blade as it came for him, and his muscles quivered with the effort to not flinch as Ana took the beard off his right cheek and jaw in one swoop, her touch sure and accurate. The left side went as swiftly, and he braced himself for the rest. Ana seemed intent on speed, rather than care. He hissed in a breath as the blade nicked his chin and neck. **

**"Not brilliant, but not bad," she said, sitting back to study her handiwork. She palmed the blade again and rose, glancing at the guards. "Show him where to bathe." **

**"Ana," Donovan said softly, hiding his frustration with failing to gain some ground. "Wait." If he wanted any chance of escape, he needed the guards gone and the yoke off his back. Speculating on the change he sensed within her, indefinable but needy, he dared to make his first demand. "Get rid of the audience and we can do this together." **

**She arched a brow at him. "You think I'm stupid?"**

**"I think you're no voyeur," he said, calmer than he felt. "You don't have to send them away. Just where **_**I'll **_**feel more comfortable."**

**Folding her arms, Ana studied him. He could almost see her considering the idea, looking for the loophole.**

**"Xandra and Romy go," she said to him. "You bathe, I watch."**

**His shoulders jerked against the yoke and he hid his reaction by adjusting his position on the stone. So much for not being a voyeur.**

**"Leave us!" Ana ordered, looking around at the guards. "Resume your watch five yards down the path and be ready for my call."**

**The guards shouldered their rifles, looking ill at ease as they turned away. **

**"Now the yoke," he said, anxious to get his hands free.**

**"You **_**do **_**think I'm stupid!"**

**"No, I think you're better with a knife than I'll ever be," he said, quickly reassuring her. "And right now, you've got two. I think you've forgotten why Nestor made you his second-in-command."**

**Ana preened a little, dropping her chin to look at him through her lashes. To Donovan, Ana Diaspora in coquettish mode appeared even more treacherous. **

**"I got rid of the guards, Cubillos. That's **_**all **_**you are getting. Now, what are you going to give me?"**

**He figured it would come to this, a duel for advantage, but if that is what it took– "You tell me and I'll tell you if it's worth the prying eyes gone." He willed his muscles to relax as he held her gaze, his breathing steady.**

**"Submission." Ana straightened, then put her hands on her hips, the razor appearing to glint dully as she stood looking down at him. "Total submission from the great Francisco Cubillos with the over-inflated ego."**

**Donovan risked a shake of his head. "No, that's my top price and for that, I get the yoke off. Your call."**

**Bending down, the hand holding the knife snaked to his hip and he felt the loin cloth pull against his skin, then flop to the ground. She'd nicked him, but he dismissed the sharp slice as secondary to the threat of the knife tip now at his stomach.**

**"That's for the guards gone," he stated, shifting his shoulders under the yoke to hide his uneasiness. "Now, it's my turn. Throw the razor into the bushes behind me."**

**Sitting back on her haunches, Ana laughed. "And you watch where I throw it, right?" **

**"I won't watch, and what good would it do me if I did?"**

**"And if I refuse?"**

**"Then that's the end of the game."**

**Ana pricked the skin under his ribs with her knife. "I have a blade that says not." **

**"I'm bored with your knives, Sub-Commander," Donovan said, his mouth curling, letting her see some of his anger. "The game is much more interesting. Tantalizing." He now tried to suit his look to the word, but wasn't sure how convincing he could be, battered and sprawled on a hard rock. "Unpredictable even," Donovan finished, his voice low and intimate.**

**Ana looked hard and long at him, her gaze roving his face then down his body and Donovan's skin crawled. Her eyes swept back to meet his and he forced a small smile to curve his lips, watching her face change as she came to a decision.**

"**Kiss me," she ordered.**

"**After you throw away the—"**

"_**Before!" **_**Her teeth bared in a snarl.**

**Donovan weighed the chances of her co-operating in his 'game'. He had little to lose, and only advantage to gain. He nodded.**

**Ana's eyes danced at his capitulation. She moved in closer and lay her lips on his.**

**Donovan held himself rigid and endured her mouth moving over his.**

"**Kiss me back," she ordered, still feasting on his lips.**

"**The razor…" he murmured.**

"…**goes into your ribs if you don't put a little feeling into it, Cubillos!"**

**Donovan closed his eyes and his mind and applied pressure to her mouth, imagining the woman leaning into him was anyone other than Ana. He must have been convincing, because she pulled back eventually and tossed the razor high and hard behind his head.**

**"Show me pleasure when I touch you," she said.**

**Donovan's jaw tightened, his heart thumping harder as he fought to keep his breathing even. "For that, the knife."**

**"No negotiation, Cubillos. You just aren't in the position to do so."**

**"Forget–" He stopped himself, remembering what he started, all too conscious why. He nodded again.**

**Dropping her eyes, Ana sheathed her knife and leaned forward to flatten her palms against the side of his rib cage. "It's a pity you're such a pain in the ass," she said. "You could be so… entertaining."**

**"I think I've entertained you enough." **

**"Actually, I think it's your smart mouth I hate the most," Ana said, looking at his lips. "And yet it is so full and soft and… passionate." ****She traced his ribs with her fingers. "Do you have a girlfriend, Cubillos?" she asked, her voice musing. "From the village?" She massaged him then flattened her palms against his chest. Donovan steeled himself against the feel of her dry and grasping hands. "I know you don't have one in the camp."**

**"Questions weren't part of the deal," he said, deliberately flouting her, ready for the consequence.**

**Her eyes narrowed, calculating. "Then the knife is for the questions answered, and it's still my turn," she conceded, drawing her blade slowly from its scabbard to place it beside her.**

**Donovan banked his eagerness, not wanting Ana to realize she was giving up so much for so little.**

**"Relax, Cubillos. I can see and feel your muscles tighten. If you try swinging your arms, my knife will be in my hand and in your gut before that branch comes anywhere near my head."**

**"You think I don't know that?" he said, allowing his frustration through and letting her think she had the upper hand.**

**Ana smiled, gloating. Her hands traveled freely across his shoulders, neck and chest. "Did you know a woman who made you melt in her arms, Cubillos? Someone who made you feel safe… and warm… and loved?" She leaned into him and touched her lips to his chin.**

**Donovan jerked out of her reach then felt the familiar prick of her blade at his throat.**

**"Now, who's not playing?" she demanded. "Answer me!"**

**"No girlfriend," he gritted.**

**"Poor Cubillos," she purred, putting the knife back down beside her. "So unloved and unwanted." Her voice mocked him, but he heard conviction beneath it. "No one looking for you? Even now?"**

**Donovan tensed and hoped it didn't show, fearing Ana knew he would be missed, but **_**not **_** by a woman.**

**Needing to divert her, he braced himself. "Show me then."**

**"Show you what?"**

**"What it's like. To be… wanted."**

**Ana's lips pursed and she seemed to be gauging his motive. Then she threw back her head and laughed. Retrieving and sheathing her knife, Ana jumped to her feet, her laugh disintegrating into a sneer.**

**"I am not an idiot. You promise nothing, while you are in no position to deny me!"**

**"Wrong!" he snarled back. "You want me to perform? That won't happen if I'm not getting anything out of it."**

**Ana shifted on her feet and he waited for her next move. **

**"Come on, Sub-Commander," he goaded further. "You're the best Nestor's got. Yet, to feel superior to me you have to yoke me and threaten me with knives. Show me **_**why**_** Nestor has such faith in you."**

**Her mouth worked on his suggestion, so Donovan pressed home his advantage. "It's the only way you're going to get… what you want."**

**Ana's hand went for her knife.**

**"No!" he said quickly. "Think about it. The whipping didn't work." He jerked his head to the wound in his arm. "Knife-throwing didn't work. Ever gambled, Sub-Commander?" His eyes held hers. "Your prowess against mine, if I don't live up to my promise." **

**"I can make you–"**

**"No, you can't." Donovan lifted his chin, challenging her. "Take the gamble, Ana. No knives, but you've still got your rifle," he said, reminding her she was still in control. At close quarters, he knew he had a better chance against her armed with a rifle than a knife. He had to keep her close. Anything else, and he didn't stand a chance.**

**Ana picked up her rifle and balanced it under her arm, then, drawing her knife, cut the cords at his wrists. Her rifle came up and its barrel pointed at his heart almost before the twine touched the ground. He checked both arms, noting that this time she cut cleanly. No blood, only rope burns.**

**"The soap's near the knapsack," Ana said. "Get into the pool and use it."**

**Donovan leaned forward and jerked the branch from his shoulders, allowing it to slide down between his back and the boulder. Slowly lowering his aching arms, he flexed his hands and shoulders, conscious that Ana's rifle followed every move. Bracing himself against the rock, he pushed to his feet, then bent down to retrieve the soap. Turning, he saw Ana sit down on the rock he had vacated, her rifle balanced across her arm.**

**"Hurry it up, Cubillos."**

**Gripping the soap, Donovan dived cleanly into the water. There was a roaring in his ears as the water closed around him, its cold embrace exhilarating him. He surfaced, waist deep in the pool, shook the water from his hair and lifted his face to the dying sun.**

**"Don't bother diving out of my view again," Ana said from behind. "The minute you come up for air, you'll get a shoulder full of lead. Just wash."**

**He spun around, not doubting her, the fleeting enjoyment of the moment gone. Swiping the soap around his body, he watched her as closely as she watched him, her face expressive in her avid enjoyment of his ministrations. He did his hair last and bent forward, dunking his head into the water, not risking the dive to rinse it.**

**"Now, get out and lie down," Ana said, flicking the rifle's muzzle to her left. "And before you try anything, there's one more thing you want from me."**

**He doubted it. Other than her death by his own hand.**

**"We have your friend Ramaya's woman," Ana continued. "If anything happens to me, I have left orders for her to be executed. And if you don't satisfy me, I shall kill her myself."**

**Donovan's shoulders dropped, the news flooring him. He had no way of knowing if the guerrillas had Belicia, but if they did, it was entirely possible only Ana's whim kept her alive. And his lack of cooperation would be her death sentence.**

**"You spoke earlier of gambling," Ana said. "I'm gambling that you would not want that on your conscience." **

**He swallowed hard, not answering as he debated calling her bluff.**

**"You doubt me?" she asked. "Where do you think Mora and Luju are? I entrust only my most loyal to something so important."**

**That was her trump card and they both knew it. Donovan stood in the water's shallows and shivered. **

**"We're both betting, you and I," Ana said, hammering in her advantage. "If I'm wrong about you and you have no compassion for the life of an innocent, you'll try your best to kill me and escape. If I'm right, you'll… how did you say it before, Cubillos? Perform?"**

**She would gamble her life against his cooperation, but Donovan couldn't take the risk that she was lying. Not with the life of the woman Ben had loved. He'd failed his friend once already.**

**"Now," Ana said, patting the moss-streaked ground beside her. "Come and lie with me."**

**He didn't move. He couldn't take that first step.**

**"If you want proof, Cubillos," Ana said impatiently, "we can do this tomorrow. I'll take you back now and you can watch me whip Ramaya's girl-friend and then have her agony hang over you as you decide whether she lives or dies. What sort of friend would you be to Ramaya if you allow this treatment of his lover?"**

**Despite the coldness of the water, sweat broke out along Donovan's brow and upper lip. Ana knew him better than he realized. **

**"If I… agree, you let her go," he said, desperately angling for anything to make this worthwhile.**

**"Let me remind you," Ana said, her hands clenching on her rifle, "you are in no position to make demands, despite our little game earlier."**

**His heart sank. The loss of his physical restraints was meaningless stacked up against her latest emotional power card.**

**"The longer you take," she said, her face twisting into her usual scowl, "the worse it will be for Ramaya's woman when I lose patience and call off the deal."**

**Donovan took a step out of the water, then another, caught in her malicious stare as he banked every emotion down and dredged up that professional corner of him that would put him on automatic pilot. It was the only way he could get through this.**

**He left the water and sat down beside her, shivering, welcoming the cold invading his body, transferring it to his emotions.**

**Ana put the rifle down beside her, warily watching him, but Donovan had put himself in a place where survival meant compliance. Survival, not for himself, but for Belicia. And atonement for Ben.**

**Something about his body language or his face must have told Ana she had won. She smiled as she pushed his back to the ground.**

**"We do have her, you know," she said with satisfaction. "She went back to the peasant who turned in Ramaya, trying to find news of her lover's body. Stupid, wasn't she? Stupid in love."**

**Ana ****searched his face but Donovan gave her only blankness, his eyes focusing on a dusk-shadowed tree protruding from the rock outcrop above them. Breeze-tossed leaves softened the gnarled and twisted shapes of its branches, something Ana's femininity couldn't achieve against her evil.**

**"Have you ever been in love, Cubillos?" She bent her head, her breath fanning his lips.**

**He said nothing.**

**"Answer me! You know the consequences!"**

**"Why do you care?" he exploded.**

**"Answer…me."**

**"No."**

**"No, **_**what?**_** No, you won't answer me or no, you've never been in love."**

**"No, I've never been in love," he gritted, but something deep within him stirred a faint protest.**

**Ana's mouth feathered down his neck and Donovan squeezed his eyes shut, losing the tree that kept him focused. "Did you know a woman whose very touch made you long to lose yourself in her?" **

_**Yes– **_

**"What did you say?" she asked, her voice sounding a soft triumph.**

**"No!"**

**"I don't believe you," she said, impatient with him again. "There must be someone in your past who touched you. Your soul."**

**Her hand slid between his legs and closed around him.**

_**Oh, God, yessss…**_

**"What was her name?" **

**"There… was no one." He pushed the words through clenched teeth.**

**"Liar!" Ana laughed. "What was her name, Cubillos?" Her mouth was on his chest, her hand busy at his groin. "This woman you would bury yourself in–"**

_**Mercury…**_

**His eyes flew open and he felt a savage ache in his chest as he thought again of Mercury. It had been nearly eight years since he last saw her. But she still came to him at odd moments, softening the harsh reality of the life he chose for himself, reminding him how it felt to be with a woman who made him feel ****emotionally safe.**

**Yet he abandoned her.**

**And for that, he wasn't going to abandon Belicia. Or Ben. **

**"Can you see her now, Cubillos?" Ana asked, her mouth capturing his, then pulling away. **

**He shut his eyes again.**

_**Yes. **_

**His head hurt. His heart felt squeezed in a cavity far too small for it and his body yearned for the secure haven he found in Mercury's arms.**

**The first woman he trusted. None since.**

**He jerked his face away and Ana crowed with glee. "You do!" she gloated. "The mighty Cubillos **_**has **_**been brought to his knees by a woman." Ana grabbed his chin and forced his face back to hers. "And you shall again." Donovan's eyes closed on her avid gaze; he held himself rigid, refusing to react.**

**"Remember, Cubillos," Ana hissed, "if I'm not satisfied, Ramaya's girlfriend dies."**

**Donovan clamped down on his disgust and eased back into the emotional void he could create at will.**

**"Can you **_**feel**_** her now?" Ana asked. Her mouth pressed into his shoulder, searing him. "Can you feel her hands on your body?" Her fingers massaged him, skilful and coaxing. " …her lips on your skin?" **

**He panted under Ana's touch, hating it but reacting to it, forced to remember the feel of Mercury's skin against his, **_**her**_** fingers on his body, her heat as he slid into her– **

**The blood rushed to his groin, hot and intense.**

**"Good, Cubillos," Ana purred. "That's good." **

**It felt as if her mouth was everywhere at once. There was a flurry of movement as she shed her clothes and then she was poised over him, naked and quivering and… **

…_**not **__**Mercury.**_

**He started to soften but Ana slid onto him, hard, and the shock of it somehow rejuvenated him. He watched her throw back her head, her eyes shut, mouth parted, and the loathing he felt for her curled strongly in his gut. If he was able to pleasure her now, when the moment came, it would make the shock of his squeezing the life out of her throat even more inconceivable to her.**

**With his eyes fixed on Ana's neck, Donovan thought of Mercury.**

**Guttural moans spilled out of Ana's lips. **

_**Mercury**_**! **

**Ana thumped onto his body. **

**"Mercury," he whispered, agonized.**

**The hard ground grated into his back, reopening old wounds.**

**He cried out. "**_**Mercury!**_**" **

**Ana braced her hands on his chest, her lips fastened on his but he tossed his head from side to side until she grabbed his jaw and held it. Her hips thudded against his, her knees clamped onto his sides. Ana cried out, throwing her head back. Donovan groaned as her muscles drained him. **

**He felt her roll from him and from the corner of his eye, saw her sit on her knees and pick up her rifle. **

**He lay unmoving. His eyes found and stared at the first evening star that winked into the sky above him. He should do something, but he didn't know what. He should hurl abuse at Ana, but he couldn't form the words. He should roll over and give her his back but he couldn't find the will to move.**

**"You did good, Cubillos," Ana sighed. "It's a pity I have to beat you again tomorrow."**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

**"Get up!" Ana ordered, her rifle balanced on her crossed legs.**

**Donovan was tired of her orders. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his stomach churning with hate. Resting his wrists on bent knees, he swung his head to look at her, not hiding the loathing on his face.**

**Ana pulled the tie from her ponytail and tossed her hair across her bare back. She sighed noisily. "What's wrong, Cubillos? The woman now lives because of your fine sacrifice."**

**"But for how long?"**

**"For as long as you cooperate." He must have looked skeptical, because her brows rose in surprise. "You don't trust me? For all my sins, Cubillos, when have I not been true to my word?"**

**He wouldn't know, and he was in no position to call her bluff. "What will it take to have her freed?"**

**Ana's eyes lit up, amused. "You already know the answer to that one."**

**"This is not about subservience! This is about feeling big by belittling. Being in command by taking away control. It's pathetic, immature and I'm surprised Nestor hasn't kicked you back down the ranks into the dirt where you belong."**

**The air rushed out of his lungs as his back hit the ground and Ana was on top of him. She clawed at his face but he managed to grab each hand. Twisting, he pushed her off and pinned her underneath him. One hand seized both her wrists and his other closed around her throat. **

**Struggling beneath him, Ana got one arm free and gripped the back of Donovan's head, pulling his hair at its roots. His scalp throbbed, his neck stretched painfully before Ana's hand snapped to the front, her fingers digging into his windpipe. Heart racing, Donovan increased the pressure on Ana's throat, ignoring his own desperate need to breathe.**

**Ana's eyes gleamed and her lips were working, trying to get a word past his grip on her neck. "Ram…ay…a's wo…" **

**Donovan's hand faltered, his fingers slipping slowly from her neck, reluctant to give up their advantage. **

_**Get Belicia safe first… for Ben.**_

**Ana heaved in several breaths, then Donovan felt her body go slack beneath him. Releasing his throat, she slid her hand to the back of his neck and laughed in his face. He gulped in air as his chin dropped to his chest. **

**"You… nearly… blew it," she whispered, her voice hoarse and strained, but her eyes were shut and a small smile of satisfaction hovered on her lips. She writhed beneath him but not in an effort to eject him. Her hips molded into his as she raised her head, her mouth gliding up his jaw to his ear. "Remember whose life you are gambling with."**

**Wrenching his head away, he pushed himself from her. Ana scrabbled to keep him there, keening in frustration, her nails raking into the wounds on his back. He yelled a curse, knocked her arms away, then thrust to his feet, bracing for her next move. **

**Ana lay back against the moss, smiling up at him. "That was almost better than the sex, Cubillos," she said. "I knew you would be different. You have such potential." **

**"I could kill you right now and smile doing it," Donovan grated.**

**Interested calculation crossed Ana's face before she rolled to her feet and faced him. "And one minute later, one of my guards will shoot you and Nestor will execute Ramaya's girlfriend. That's three lives wasted because you," she poked him in the chest with a finger, "can't get your head around the fact that we could be good together. What kind of an idiot does that make you?"**

**Ana thrust out an arm suddenly and Donovan dodged, his hands snapping up in defense, but she merely held up a palm to her guards who rushed into the glade, their rifles ready. "Stay back!" she ordered. "What took you so long?"**

**The guards looked uncomfortable. "We… weren't sure," Xandra said uncertainly. "It sounded like you were… enjoying–"**

**Ana laughed. "I was." Her gaze, a mixture of satisfaction and triumph, swept back to Donovan. "Yes, Cubillos… great potential." She moved away to gather her clothes. "Fall in behind. We're finished here."**

**Donovan swallowed the bile in his throat and stayed his ground, nerves taut and muscles bunched as the guards moved behind him. He ignored them, watching Ana as she dressed, suspicious of her disregard of how close he had come to killing her. She swung her head to look at him, her gaze sweeping his body and she smiled. Donovan wished he had something to cover his nakedness. **

**But he wasn't even getting his loincloth back. Ana stashed it along with the shaving bowl and can into her knapsack. Retrieving her knife and rifle, she picked up the yoke. "You do the honors, Romy," she said, passing over the branch, "and this time I guarantee he won't give you trouble. Isn't that right, Cubillos?"**

**"Our deal was no yoke," Donovan said quickly, as Romy positioned the branch across his shoulders and pulled up each arm.**

**"And we also made a deal that you would answer my questions and show a little more enthusiasm than you have been," Ana snapped. "You've reneged on both."**

**Donovan seethed but bit back his retort. **

**When Romy was done, Ana took the lead. Donovan shrugged off Romy's shove from behind, staring at Ana as she strode away. His eyes bored into the back of her head, willing some miracle to strike her down dead as she walked. **

**"I want to see Belicia when we get back," he demanded.**

**"What's the point?" Ana said without turning around.**

**"Only an idiot would take your word without proof."**

**Ana jabbed her rifle into the air. "What you want is immaterial to me."**

**"But what **_**you**_** want depends upon a little cooperation from me."**

**Ana's steps slowed. "If it will shut up your whining," she conceded, "I'll arrange it."**

**Donovan's hopes flared then curled back in suspicion. That had been too easy. **

**"But there will be no more resistance," Ana said, rounding on him. "No more pathetic attempts at escape."**

**"For that, you guarantee her freedom," Donovan insisted.**

**Ana moved in on him, backing him up against a tree beside the path. "We're not playing our little game anymore, Cubillos. You don't make demands. You give in to mine." She snaked a hand around his neck. "Now if you want the girl to sleep in relative comfort tonight…" She reached up and touched her lips to his. "…give me something."**

**Donovan's jaw ground on his teeth. For Ben, he vowed. His chest heaved with the willpower needed to apply pressure to her mouth, but he only managed to mash his teeth against Ana's lips. **

**"Bah! You're a lousy actor, Cubillos." Ana pulled away and slapped him. "I think I will just execute – what is her name? Belicia? – anyway. I'm sick of your pain in the ass attitude."**

**"Be consistent, Ana," Donovan said, taking a defiant step into her space. "You told me you like me to fight you. Make up your mind."**

**Ana scowled, then her face brightened again. "I wonder what you could manage if I had your Mercury at my mercy–"**

**His face must have registered shock because she smiled, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. "You called out her name, remember? I presume it's a 'her'."**

**"We were talking about Ben's girlfriend, Ana," he scowled. "I want her released. Nothing else is going to give you what you want."**

**Ana thrust her face into his. "You don't know **_**what **_**I want. I don't think you'd believe it if you did." Her mouth curved. "But I am curious about Mercury." Her eyes narrowed. "She was obviously your lover, but I wonder what happened…did she leave you? Or did you tire of her? Was she beautiful? Such a strange name…"**

**Ana**** abruptly turned and moved off and Donovan was swung around by a hand thumping into his shoulder and a gruff, 'Move it', from Xandra. He felt a chill spread through his body, unable to guess at Ana's meaning or at her sudden interest in Mercury. **

_**Mercury…so passionate and giving**__**. He had taken her love and thrown it away.**_

**Taking steps that dragged, Donovan watched the back of ****Ana's head. **

**"Why am I being beaten again?" he asked, thrusting away thoughts of a past he couldn't change.**

**Ana shrugged her shoulders. "You tried to escape – unsuccessfully, but tried just the same – at the infirmary. You must pay for your transgressions."**

_**And I haven't already? **_**"And then?"**

**Ana turned around and smiled. "Then we begin again," she said softly.**

**oOo**

**The next morning, prior to his scheduled beating, Luju and Mora escorted Donovan to the cages to see Belicia. Ana came, bringing up the rear.**

**The female who crouched, shivering, in the corner of the same cage in which Donovan had been imprisoned was hardly recognizable as the gentle woman who had captured Ben's heart. Her naked body was filthy with mud and blood, her long dark hair plastered against her cheeks and neck. She whimpered, trying to hide her face, but what Donovan could see was freshly bruised and swollen. **

**"Satisfied, Cubillos?" Ana asked from behind.**

**Donovan's outrage shuddered through him. He expected Belicia's incarceration, but not the extent of her injuries. He could see no reason to subject the girl to this treatment, other than satisfying Ana's perverted sense of power.**

**He swung around and glowered at Ana. "This is inhumane. Release her. She's done nothing to deserve this. Release her and I'll do anything you want."**

**"I'm not stupid," Ana laughed. "You've given me nothing even **_**with**_** this threat over your head. As soon as I release her, you'll be angling for something else." **

**"No. This is different. Trust me."**

**"I'm done trusting you. Take him away," Ana ordered Luju. "Secure him to the flagpole and wait for me there."**

**Donovan took another long look at Belicia before he was hauled away for his own beating. He knew without a doubt that Ana had been the one to do this to the girl. Stripping her victims naked seemed to be Ana's way, not Nestor's. **

**He lost sight of the cages as Luju and Mora half-dragged, half-pushed him back down the path. A terrified scream rent the air, ripping through Donovan's soul. Ana was punishing him again, this time through her treatment of Belicia.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

_**Three weeks later…**_

**Donovan's eyes followed Ana's every movement. **

**The thrust of her elbow as she jammed the brush up the barrel of her rifle, the flick of her wrist as she twisted it and the jerk of her shoulder as she pulled the brush out again. He even watched the swing of her ponytail as she turned to study him.**

**He was naked in the chair beside Nestor's desk on which Anna sat, one leg supporting herself, the other bent at the knee, foot swinging. There were two other chairs in the guerrilla commander's office, but after Donovan's last escape from this office over two weeks ago, Anna made sure he sat where she could block his dash for the door.**

**Donovan's hands were lax in his lap, his wrists numb to the metallic bind of the manacles around them. Shoulders slumped forward, he was careful to keep his raw back from scraping against the hard ripped leather of the chair. His jaw was swollen with a new bruise from the butt of the rifle Ana was now cleaning, earned from his poor performance at the cascades this morning.**

**"Why don't you go on Nestor's sorties anymore?" he asked Ana, his voice dull. "Think of all the innocents you can harass when you do."**

**She paused, the brush half-way up the rifle's barrel. "Tired of my company, Cubillos? Too bad. You're always a source of entertainment for me."**

**But Donovan was referring to her torture of Belicia for the last three weeks. Each day he would demand proof that Ben's girlfriend was still alive and occasionally Ana escorted him to the cages to check her status. It grieved him to do it, as Belicia was nothing but blood and bone, but while they were both alive, Donovan looked for any opportunity to get them out of there. **

**Shifting in the chair, Donovan grimaced as a fresh wound from his latest beating made contact with the rough leather. Despite his failures and subsequent retribution, he continued to exploit the smallest escape window. But as time went on, he became more confused about why the CIA hadn't pulled him out of there. The bartender, Marecho, would have alerted the US government of the incident in the tavern, yet still there had been no rescue attempt nor new operative infiltrated into the group.**

**"You didn't answer my question," he said, more forcefully.**

**Ana leaned forward and scraped her fingernails through the beard under his chin. He jerked his head away and she sat back, a satisfied smile on her face.**

**"You know the answer," she said. "I don't want to lose Mora and Luju."**

**"Would you really execute them if I managed to escape under their guard? Your best lieutenants? Your only **_**friends**_**?" He injected pity into his voice, blatantly scathing of her unpopularity within the group.**

**Ana's smile widened. "You know the answer to that one too."**

**Placing the rifle barrel down, Ana slid from the desk's edge and gripped the armrests of his chair. She leaned forward and he instinctively pulled back, the movement sending fire up his back, but he ignored it.**

**"You should feel honored," she whispered into his ear.**

**Donovan's muscles quivered with readiness.**

**"Want to play, 'Where's the Knife' again?" she asked, her voice low and breathy.**

**He knew she wanted him to. Badly. But he always came out the worse for it. When she was this close and apparently defenseless, he often attempted to overpower her. But he knew that the vulnerability was a ruse.**

**"Come on, Cubillos," she coaxed. "Giving up? That's not like you." Ana rubbed her face against his shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe I forgot to conceal the knife this morning."**

**"Despite the fact that I'd derive huge satisfaction from driving my fists under your ribs," Donovan countered, "Luju and Mora wouldn't let me past the door to brag about it." **

**Ana chuckled, running her mouth across his lips. "Yes, you've tried everything, and still haven't managed to escape me." She nipped his bottom lip then straightened, hitching herself back up on the desk. "You'll never escape, Cubillos. And you'll have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge that you were bested by a woman."**

**"Really? I'd never define you as a woman. Bitch. Butcher. Human scum–"**

**Donovan expected the blow to his face. His head barely moved against the force of her fist and his eyes never left hers. Instead, he made his lips curve into a slow smile. **

**A movement outside the office window broke Donovan's concentration and he turned his head to see Nestor walk toward the building. **

**"Your leader approaches," he said. "I think it best I get out of his chair."**

**"Stay where you are." Ana picked up her rifle and continued to clean it, not looking up as Nestor's boots heavily scraped on the stairs before he entered the office. The guerrilla leader paused on the threshold, his gaze encompassing Donovan then Ana perched on his desk. **

**"What is he doing in my chair?" Nestor directed the question at Ana. **

**"He's finding it hard to stay on his feet," she said. "Pathetic bastard."**

**"Maybe if you fed him more and beat him less, he wouldn't be so weak."**

**Ana merely shrugged her shoulders, but Donovan had to agree, surprised at Nestor's coming to his defense.**

**"What's wrong with the other chairs?" Nestor demanded, his voice rising with annoyance as he strode into the room.**

**Ana looked up briefly then bent her head back to the firing mechanism of her rifle. "He gets cocky in those chairs. Thinks he can get past me and out the door."**

**Donovan heard Nestor swear under his breath before hauling him out of the chair and throwing him to the ground. Donovan rolled to keep his back off the floorboards, then pushed himself into a crouch, prepared to move fast if he had to.**

**"Then he can have the floor," Nestor said. "You treat him like a dog, so that's where he can sit. If I see him in my chair again, I'll shoot him."**

**"Her chair will do," Donovan said, but they ignored his quip.**

**"I'd rather you didn't," Ana said off-handedly. "I'm not finished with him yet."**

**"Then it's time you were," Nestor snapped. "You're not pulling your weight anymore. When was the last time you went on patrol with your unit?"**

**"I asked her the same thing myself," Donovan said, but they ignored him.**

**"I still train them." Ana's eyes were fixed on Nestor's face, openly defying the guerrilla leader. "They're a crack team. They don't need me to baby-sit them."**

**"You used to enjoy our incursions."**

**"True, but if I leave him, he tries to escape."**

**Donovan heard the mutiny in Ana's voice. She was skating on thin ice and he wondered how far Nestor would allow her to push. **

**"**_**Cristo!**_** Your lieutenants can look after your pet," Nestor snarled.**

**"I can't trust anyone with him. He tries to win them over." Ana put down the brush and picked up a rag, oiling the mechanisms. "I had to put Mora in solitary for giving him a spoon to eat his food with." **

**"Luckily for Mora, you didn't find me with the fork," Donovan mumbled.**

**Nestor looked down, his face registering disgust as his gaze traveled over Donovan's naked body. "You're going too far with this one, Ana," he said. **

**Ana's eyes lit up, leaning toward Nestor in eagerness. "But he's so close. This time I will find what I'm looking for." **

**Donovan frowned, not understanding what she meant, but his gut tightened with unease.**

**"You sick bitch," Nestor growled at her. "Enough of this! You will join us tomorrow." It sounded like an order to Donovan and Ana must have felt the same way, because this time she didn't argue.**

**"The cocaine is ready for shipment," Nestor continued. "The peasants have been particularly productive this month and it is a sizeable amount. I'm going to need my best soldiers to oversee its progress to the coast." He stepped between Ana and Donovan still hunched on the floor, turning his head sideways to look at her. "You'll march with us, otherwise I'll kick your ass back to your village and let your uncle finish the job he started on you. Is that understood?"**

**Ana kept her eyes downcast, her knuckles white as she gripped the rifle. "How long this time?" she asked, putting aside her rag carefully. "I don't want–"**

**"I'm not interested in what you want. Pack for a three day hike. The buyer's boat is moored at San Trieste."**

**"Three days? Then I'm bringing him with me!"**

**"No, you won't." Nestor thrust his hand around Ana's neck, forcing up her chin. "It's about time you warmed **_**my**_** bedroll again."**

**"There's nothing warm–" Donovan interrupted again, and was unprepared for the backhander from Nestor that sent him three feet across the floor. Donovan tested his jaw ruefully, cursing himself for his sloppiness. Always expecting the abuse that came from Ana, Donovan lost sight of the fact that Nestor had been her mentor.**

**Ana slammed her rifle to the desk, facing off her leader. "I'm not going to let you take this away from me," she said, her eyes furious.**

**"You want it so badly?" Nestor asked. Pulling a set of keys from his trouser pocket, he wheeled around to the other side of his desk, unlocking the bottom drawer and pulling out a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver. "Then I'll be the one to give it to you."**

**Donovan launched himself from the floor, certain that Nestor was ready to shoot him down like a dog. He froze in a defensive crouch, eyeing the gun barrel now aimed at him.**

**"Move again, Cubillos," Nestor threatened, "and I'll blow a hole in your head."**

**Leaning across his desk, Nestor wrapped an arm around Ana's throat and dragged her backwards across its surface. Her rifle thudded to the floor, pencils scattered and a map bunched and tore underneath her but she didn't struggle as Nestor thrust the revolver's muzzle into her temple and smiled. **

**"Well, Ana?" Nestor said, his voice amused, "shall I pull the trigger?" **

**"Look me in the eyes when you do it," she said, her voice calm.**

**Nestor's eyes narrowed and his gun hand moved slightly.**

**Donovan frowned and relaxed slightly. Whatever was happening didn't concern him. He watched them play out their little drama, the corner of his eye sighting the window to his left. If things got messy between these two, he was going to risk Lulu and Mora getting involved and missing his escape.**

**"You won't, will you?" Ana said, sounding weary. "Could you fuck a woman and then kill her, Nestor? Look her in the face, your body still inside hers, and choke the life out of her?" Her gaze sought Donovan's. "Cubillos could. I really feel he could do it." **

**A sick feeling curled around Donovan's stomach as he realized how many times he had come close.**

**Nestor shook his head, eyes widening in discovery. "Is that what you've been doing? Priming this one to take you to that point of no return? You crazy masochist!" He cocked the revolver, the click loud in the room.**

**Donovan instinctively jerked forward then stopped himself. Why should he prevent Nestor from killing Ana?**

**"What's wrong, Cubillos?" Nestor asked, glancing at him. "Surely you're not worried about her? This cold-hearted bitch that's made your life hell for the last month?" Nestor held his gaze as he stroked Ana's temple with the gun's muzzle, contempt in his eyes. "Haven't you seen through her little game yet? She loves this shit." Nestor dragged the revolver across Ana's cheek and prodded her lips with it. Ana's eyes closed as her mouth parted to allow its access. **

**Donovan shuddered. The woman was relaxed, despite being splayed awkwardly across the desk. She even looked like she was enjoying it.**

**Nestor suddenly released Ana and shoved her away from him. She fell to the floor and picked herself up, glowering at Nestor, her teeth bared.**

**"You'll be on that patrol tomorrow, Ana," Nestor ordered, "without your plaything. And get him out of my office. Now!" He glanced dispassionately at Donovan. "She was the only reason you were still alive." Nestor tossed the revolver at Ana, who caught it automatically. Turning on his heel, he strode out the door.**

**Donovan saw Ana watch Nestor leave, her back rigid. "No…" she whispered, then looked down at the revolver in her hand.**

_**What the hell?**_** Donovan's jaw clenched. What was with the revolver? Looking out the window, he watched Nestor stride toward the Mess Hall. The shadows were lengthening, the day sliding into a cool evening and the aromas from the cook's oven were beckoning many of the soldiers to dinner. **

**It suddenly occurred to him that Nestor had been very blasé about imparting cocaine shipment information in front of a prisoner. **

**Donovan turned back to Ana, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he watched her retrieve her rifle and sling it over her shoulder in a temper. There was a mutinous pout to her mouth as she turned the revolver over in both hands, then bit her lip and sighed sharply. Palming it in her right hand, she turned and raised it, aiming it between Donovan's eyes.**

**"Such a waste," Ana said with regret. "And I had such hopes for you, Cubillos."**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-Three**_

_**I know vengeance. Colonel, it's a destroyer and it never heals. Believe me, when I tell you I know this…I know this too well.**_

**(Donovan to Colonel Rodriguez in 'Hunting Armando')**

**oOo**

**Donovan knew that he was to die today.**

**And Ana had been charged with the task of killing him. There could be no other reason for Nestor's discussing the trip to San Trieste in front of him, or for the extra arsenal in her hand.**

**"What would you do, Cubillos?" She sauntered over to him, swinging the gun up and down. "If you could put this revolver to my head… would you pull the trigger?" **

**He didn't even hesitate. "Yes." **

**"You'd kill a defenseless woman?"**

**His heart thumped in his chest but he sensed she didn't intend to shoot him yet. It was simply another ploy to make him sweat. "I wouldn't be killing anyone defenseless and I'm not even sure about the woman part."**

**"You really know how to turn a girl's head," Ana snarled, stepping back and jerking her head toward the door. "Let's go."**

**"Time for dinner?" Donovan quipped. **

**"Just shut up and walk."**

**Donovan moved ahead of her to the door, his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to fight or flee, whichever opportunity presented itself. As he passed Luju and Mora standing guard outside, he sought their gaze, but other than a scowl from Mora, got no sense of what was going down from them. Mora obviously hadn't forgiven him for the spoon incident. **

**When he hit the dirt of the quadrangle, he would have run but Ana had her rifle trained on him, her eyes never leaving his while she spoke to Luju and Mora, too quietly for him to hear. The other women nodded, looked at him briefly, then strode down the steps and headed toward the path that led to the cages.**

**"Where are they going?" Donovan asked sharply.**

**Ana approached him then gestured toward the path that would take them to the cascades. "Walk!"**

**Donovan noticed soldiers waiting outside the Mess Hall, watching them from the verandah. Some of them had their rifles strapped over their backs, others had them propped up on the floorboards. With such a show of force, Donovan decided against arguing with Ana and turned to head down the path to the pools.**

**"We were there this morning," he said. "Why again?" **

**"You might have been satisfied with this morning's effort, but I wasn't."**

**He cursed under his breath, not needing to be reminded of how he could accomplish the act with Ana, loathing her so much and still managing to perform. He swung around and jerked up his hands. "Maybe this has something to do with it?" he shouted. "Maybe if I got the use of my hands, I could…" He swallowed hard. "… pleasure you better."**

**"Keep moving."**

**He scowled at her before turning back to the path, flexing his wrists in the manacles as a light sweat broke out over his body. **

**When they broached the glade, Donovan stopped and turned around to face her, muscles taut.**

**Ana leveled her rifle, watching him with calculation. "How did you pleasure Mercury?" she finally asked.**

**Donovan's eyes widened in surprise. Ana had shown no interest in Mercury since that first day here. **

**"What's this all about?" he asked.**

**"You haven't worked it out yet?" Ana pulled the revolver from her waistband and tossed her rifle onto the grass. "You're more stupid than I thought."**

**Donovan eyed the gun then lifted his chin, watching her without flinching. "I'm surprised Nestor has entrusted you with the job," he jeered.**

**"That was always our agreement," Ana smiled, cocking the revolver. "Now, how did you pleasure Mercury?"**

**"Why this interest in Mercury?" **

**Her mouth twisted with impatience. Donovan already knew Ana was not a woman from whom you could buy time, but then she sighed noisily and her aim dropped slightly.**

**"I believe you loved her," Ana said softly, surprising him more. "You would have lain with her with love in your heart." Ana moved closer. "In return for your life, can you make love to me? Not fuck me like you've been doing, but do it like you **_**feel**_** something… for me."**

**Donovan looked hard at her, trying to read her – her motive, her state of mind – and knew that he still couldn't trust her.**

**"No."**

**Ana nodded her head sadly. "More disappointment. Then I will have the last–" Donovan's stomach plummeted when he saw Ana's finger tighten on the trigger, but she swung the gun wide before pulling off the shot. The revolver was aimed back on him before he could do more than flinch.**

**An answering report from north of them echoed her gun's blast. **

**"What was that?" Donovan demanded, his mouth dry. **

**"That was Ramaya's woman put out of her misery, The next shot will signal Luju and Mora to make their way here to clean up **_**your **_**carcass."**

**Donovan's blood pounded in his head. His efforts to keep Belicia alive had been for nothing. His hatred blazed as roared and lunged for Ana. He went in low, knocking the revolver away with his hands. Flattening her to the ground, he pummeled her with his bound fists. Ana lay there, unmoving, her eyes staring at him with grim satisfaction. **

**"I…" Ana rasped, her mouth working over her words.**

**Donovan wrapped his hands around her throat and pressed down hard. **

**"I… don't… want to be… disappointed again."**

**Donovan faltered, his hands slackening, and still she didn't struggle. **

**"You're different," she panted. "Maybe this time… I will experience the release–"**

**Donovan froze. She was giving him permission to kill her. It would be so easy. A little more pressure and she wouldn't be able to breathe at all. **

**He gazed into her accepting, waiting eyes.**

**And hesitated.**

**"Are you… reconsidering…?" she whispered. "Make… love… to…"**

**"No." His hands tightened and the veins in her neck throbbed under her skin.**

**He could so easily kill her now, despite only needing to incapacitate her enough to get away.**

**"Fight me!" he gritted, doubting his resolve. **_**Kill her!**_** For Ben, for Belicia.**

**"You… too… will be… damned." Ana forced the words through her lips. **

**"Fight me, you bitch!" **_**Kill her!**_** For his own humiliation at her hands.**

**She looked right through him and smiled sadly. "More… disappoint–"**

**He couldn't do it. A sound of frustrated agony ripped through his throat and he pulled back.**

**"Why are you doing this?" he groaned.**

**Ana heaved in broken breaths, choking on her words. "I want… to look death in the face. Vanquish it… or succumb to it. Feel its power… its totality." She closed her eyes slowly, then snapped them open. "I thought you would be able to give me… that final thrill." **

**Ana shifted her weight slightly and Donovan felt a searing heat slice into his side. He cried out and rolled from her, his hand clutching his waist. Warm blood oozed through his fingers. **

**She threw herself on top of him, her legs clamped around his arms at his sides, her knife now poised above his left eye. It was wet with his blood. "Where's the knife, Cubillos?" she grinned.**

**"Bitch!" She'd concealed her knife again, waiting for this opportunity, and he'd given it to her. Played straight into her desires. Agan. **

**Ana smiled in triumph. "You always lost at this game." Seizing his jaw with her free hand, she mashed her mouth onto his. No stretch of the imagination could call it a kiss, rather a stamping of her dominance.**

**Fury hazed his vision. It was all a fucking game to her. The torture of him, the death wish – all signs of her madness. **

**And for him, it was more than survival.**

**He thrust his hips up and out, toppling Ana's balance and jack-knifing from under her. Biting down against the fire searing under his ribs, Donovan swung his manacled fists at the side of her head as she fell, still clutching the knife. Swinging again, the steel on his wrists connected with her temple and she went down in a sagging heap, the knife dropping to the grass beside her. Donovan scrabbled to retrieve it, poising the blade between her closed eyes, his chest heaving. **

**She didn't move.**

**Donovan started to sway, the pain from the knife wound making him unsteady. He heard a large bird fly over him, its wings flap slowly and heavily over the constant gentle slap of the cascades. Gazing at Ana's still body, he recognized the lack of life and couldn't believe how quickly it had happened. He only meant to knock her unconscious.**

**Surprisingly, he took no satisfaction in her death, but also felt no loss. **

**The knife wound throbbed, forcing him to do something about it. Donovan was feeling light-headed from blood loss. He had to staunch the flow and the only thing he had available to him was underneath him. Pushing himself up, he bit down hard as he half-cut, half-ripped Ana's shirt from her, jamming it against his wound.**

**Thrusting himself awkwardly to his feet, Donovan looked down at her, panting hard. For Ben, he chanted in his head. For Belicia's life. I killed her for them.**

**But he remembered the bright blaze of fury in front of his eyes, the quicksilver rush of his blood when she reminded him how he always lost against her, and Donovan knew that he had killed her for his own gratification too. **

**Turning away, Donovan searched for and found the revolver in the grass and fighting nausea, retrieved it, ignoring the rifle beside the boulder. His bound hands could only use one weapon.**

**He looked again at Ana's body. If he left it there, scavengers would quickly come and fight over the remains. It was no more than she deserved but he was still loathe to leave her. He fired a shot into the air, Ana's signal for Mora and Luju to come and collect **_**his**_** body. Instead they would discover Ana's. **

**Looking around at the idyllic glade, Donovan swallowed down the revulsion of what had occurred here and vowed never to return. But before he left the compound, he had to check the cages. If there was a chance Belicia was still alive… **

**Gripping the revolver and thrusting his fists harder against his throbbing side, Donovan plunged into the forest.**

**oOo **

**Moving silently among the trash cans and rotting garbage behind the tavern, Donovan used the dim moonlight and thick shadows to hide his approach as Marecho stowed a bag of rubbish and slammed down the trash lid.**

**"The knight has fallen from the chessboard," Donovan stated in a low voice, staying out of sight.**

**"**_**Cristo!**_**" Marecho spun around and peered into the darkness. **

**Donovan waited for Marecho to recover and interpret the message. The tavern's bartender looked for him in vain, then went still. **

**"Which knight?" Marecho asked, his voice calm, acknowledging the code. "The board has been empty for some time and the pawns have gone too."**

**Donovan stepped into the moonlight at the all-clear and watched the other man take in his borrowed peasant clothes, unruly hair and bare feet. ****The villager who had found him naked and near dead from loss of blood, couldn't spare him shoes.**

**"You're out of uniform?" Marecho asked. "What happened? Where's Ramaya?" **

**Donovan frowned. The bartender should have heard of Ben's fate through the village grapevine. "A villager found him," Donovan said slowly, scanning the far end of the alley. "Thought he had a deserter and turned him in. Nestor had him shot."**

**Marecho's eyes widened. "Shit! I'm sorry to hear that. I heard they found him, but that the guerrillas took him back to the hills. According to Nestor's ex and your current ladylove, Ramaya and you merely did some solitary for your fall from grace here. Ana was even crowing that she was training you to be her right-hand man."**

**Donovan's head snapped back to Marecho. "Christ! You believed her? When did she tell you this?" **

**Marecho frowned, leaned against the wall and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, offering him one. **

**Donovan ignored them. "**_**When**_**?"**

**The other man shrugged. "Weeks ago. She's been down here three times since then. Bragging to the waitresses how she's got a man who finally loves her. You know how women go on, thinking the world revolves around love." Marecho chuckled. "I figured you were just stringing her along, getting in her pants and screwing information out of her. Except for Ana and her two lieutenants, the tavern hasn't seen hide nor hair of Nestor's band since your brawl here."**

**"Why?" Donovan asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why would she say anything? There would be no need, unless…" His voice trailed off. "She knew why I was there and was keeping everything normal here, which means she knew you were a mole, Marecho." **

**Donovan grasped the other man by the shoulder, ignoring the ****pain in his wrist, a leftover from the discarded manacles. The knife wound in his side was worse, hot and throbbing, probably infected. ****"The tavern has been recognized as a source of Intelligence. I'm going to pull you out. Tonight. I've no idea if Ana had alerted Nestor, but I'm not willing to take that chance."**

**Marecho snapped a quick glance down the alley. "There's nothing to keep me here. With the exception of being entertained by Ana Diaspora's delusions, life's been pretty dull around here lately. So what happened up there?" **

**Donovan paused before answering. "Later. We have to leave here first."**

**Marecho stubbed out his cigarette and pushed off the wall. "What of Ramaya's woman? Someone should let her know about him."**

**"Ram…? Belicia?" Donovan swallowed over his grief for the waste of her life. "She's dead too."**

**"**_**What**_**? She can't be! She was just here last night. She comes in regularly, under cover of darkness, hoping for news of Ramaya."**

**Donovan's heart raced at the news. Belicia alive? What of the woman he had seen in the cage? His blood roiled at the thought that Ana had duped him again. "I saw her body two days ago," Donovan said, not yet convinced. "They shot her in one of the cages and left her to rot."**

**"I don't know who you saw, but the girl is alive and well, hiding in the home of a farmer out of town."**

**Donovan seethed. "Are you missing any other young women from the village?"**

**"All the time," Marecho said off-handedly, "but their parents usually find them again fighting beside the rebels."**

**Donovan remembered the bloodied shattered body of the young woman he thought was Belicia. An innocent had been killed because of him. He flexed his shoulders, feeling the weight of the guilt. "Then we need to let the authorities know there will be one set of parents who will never see their daughter alive again."**

**oOo**

**"How can you be sure Iago– I mean, Ben, is dead?" Belicia asked with tearful hope. "You thought they captured and shot me and it wasn't so."**

**Donovan had spent the last week liaising with the CIA from a safe house in Tareino, eight miles away from Chunaya. He found the peasant who had turned Ben in, forcing him to show them where Nestor's men had dumped the body. What was left of Ben had been recovered and was now being transported back to Washington. In view of Donovan's diminished physical condition, the agent-in-charge had refused him permission to participate in the mission that captured Nestor's band of guerrillas as they attempted to dismantle the compound and reroute the cocaine. **

**The fact that Nestor was one of the several guerrillas who escaped capture made Donovan's lack of involvement even more unpalatable. He wasn't comfortable with Nestor being at large with the potential to become active again.**

**Seated at the kitchen table of the farmer providing sanctuary for Belicia, Donovan understood her desperate wish that he was wrong. "I've seen him," Donovan said, his voice firm, not allowing her false hope. "His body is being returned to his family in America."**

**Tears pooled in Belicia's eyes. "You should have let me see him."**

**"It was better that you didn't." He didn't elaborate. Belicia would be well aware of what jungle scavengers did to carcasses.**

**"He told me he had no family," she whispered.**

**"He had to," Donovan said gently. "As Ramaya, he had to tell you a lot of things that weren't true."**

**"Was he… married? In America?"**

**"No." Donovan could give her that. "If he told you he loved you, that much was true."**

**Belicia's eyes were a mixture of grief and wonder as she looked at him. "Why are you telling me this now? Isn't it dangerous for you?"**

**He shook his head. "I'm pulling out. The tavern was known to be a half-way house and my involvement was suspected, so my job here is done."**

**Donovan still didn't know why Ana hadn't alerted Nestor to her suspicions, or taken care of Marecho herself. Unless she wanted the guerrilla leader to be taken down. So why not release Donovan to complete the deed? **

**He would probably never know. His stomach hollowed at the thought of how he had killed Ana, not in self-defense, but in the uncontrollable grip of revenge, his motives made a mockery now that he knew Belicia was still alive.**

**"I leave tomorrow," he sighed heavily, bowing his head, "but I wanted to tell you about Ben before I left."**

**"Take me with you."**

**Donovan's head snapped up. "I don't see how. You're not an American citizen." **

**"You can't leave me here!"**

**"There's nothing I can do," he said, his voice hardening as he forced himself to withdraw from her plea.**

**"There is! Iago– Ben and I talked about it. He said he could take me back to America when he left."**

**"I'm sorry. He wasn't being truthful with you." Donovan flexed the tension in his shoulders, running his hands through the growing waves of hair at his nape. "There's no way he could–"**

**Belicia's eyes were desperate.**

**"There **_**is **_**a way, Franco." **

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-Four**_

_**Three years later…**_

**Donovan lowered himself into the chair beside the bed, securing his bathrobe around his still damp body. **

**He felt drained from releasing his past and exposing its ugliness. Mercury had clutched him tightly throughout the story, then fallen asleep in his arms. He himself dozed fitfully till dawn, plagued by nightmares of a pony-tailed sadistic bitch, until he gently extricated himself from Mercury's arms and headed for the bathroom. A hot stinging shower erased the remnants of those memories, and now he was content to watch Mercury sleep, lying on her side, hugging his pillow. **

**The implied trust and peace in her curved lips and steady breathing convinced him that airing his demons would be good for their relationship. As for him, he wasn't healed, it wasn't forgotten, but it was a start.**

**But he hadn't told her everything and he needed to go to D.C. as soon as possible.**

**His cell phone rang in the kitchen and Donovan took one last look at Mercury before leaving the bedroom. When he spied the oven, he smiled inwardly. The moussaka still lay inside untouched. Neither of them had felt like eating the night before. Cradling his cell between chin and shoulder, he opened the overhead cupboard. **

**"Donovan."**

**"**_**Frank**_** Donovan?... This is John Kremzow."**

**Donovan's hand hovered over a packet of coffee, his body tensing at the caller's identity. "How did you get my number?" he asked.**

**"That's not important."**

**"It is to me." **

**There was silence on the other end, and Donovan abandoned the coffee. **

**"Marcie gave it to me," Kremzow finally said.**

_**Damn her!**_

**"What do you want?" Donovan asked. **

**"I want to talk to Mercury."**

**"She has her own phone, I believe. Why call mine?" **

**"I phoned her apartment," Kremzow said impatiently, "and her sister told me where Mercury went last night and that she hasn't returned. And **_**her**_** cell's turned off."**

**"Then it still has nothing to do with me." Donovan kept his voice level, wondering what was coming.**

**"What will it take to send you back to Washington where you belong?" Kremzow blurted.**

**Donovan clenched the phone in his hand. "Are you on personal terms with the President?"**

**"Don't try to tell me you're that important. Mercury has a great career going here," Kremzow's words came out in a rush, "and you've muscled in and suddenly she's taking time off. She **_**never**_** had to take time off before."**

**"You're speaking to the wrong person. Good-bye."**

**"Wait! Just put her on the phone. I want to speak to her."**

**"Then you talk to her when she turns her cell back on, or when she phones you. I'll tell her you called."**

**Donovan shut his cell and cooled his palms on the kitchen counter, getting his temper under check, then finished preparing the coffee. His cell rang out twice, Kremzow's caller-ID each time, and Donovan ignored it. On the third attempt, he answered it, for Mercury's sake.**

**"Yes?" Donovan snapped into the phone.**

**"Mercury has a contract–" Kremzow began.**

**"I'm sure she's aware of that, and will honor it."**

**"You're throwing away her career–" Kremzow sounded desperate.**

**"I'm doing nothing." Except losing patience, Donovan thought. He moved to the window, breathing deeply as he gazed out the window at the neighboring park already populated by runners, cyclists and mothers with strollers.**

**"Stacey told me what you did to Mercury. How you shattered her life–"**

**"This conversation is at an end." **

**Donovan flipped the phone shut and gripped it in his fist, his eyes staring out the window, unseeing now as the memories flooded him. Mercury clinging to his arm as they walked to college, their making love on her apartment floor, surrounded by the books they had been studying, then feeding him her attempts at home-cooking on the sofa and inexplicably, he saw the two FBI agents solemnly approaching him in the University library... A screech of tires from the road below ripped him back to the present. Donovan slammed the phone back onto the counter and left the kitchen.**

**Heading for the front door and the morning paper delivered outside, he caught sight of a scrap of lace lying on the carpet. Donovan bent down to pick it up and, fingering the sliver of underwear, felt heat swamp him. His body stirred at the thought of her against the wall, how giving and trusting she had been despite his near abuse of her. His shoulders slumped. He didn't deserve her. Not ten years ago, and not now.**

**Donovan retrieved his shirt, CK tee and Mercury's dress from the floor and scooped up her purse from where he had tossed it. He cursed his lack of control last night. As an FBI operative, he was better than that – his survival depended on it – but training and self-command went out the window as soon as he touched her.**

**Finding the morning newspaper neatly folded on the carpeted hall outside, Donovan headed back to the kitchen, dropping the clothes and purse on the coffee table before perusing the news headlines and checking the entertainment section. He felt a smile curve his lips. No nasty surprise waiting for him this time. **

**The coffee done, Donovan carried two mugs of it back to the bedroom, faltering as he approached the bed. Mercury had rolled over onto her back, leaving most of the sheet behind and the desire to dump the coffee and cover her body with his own almost overpowered him. She was no less beautiful in the bright light of morning, her skin smoother and not much darker than the embossed whiteness of the heavy gauge sheets on which she lay. **

**Forcing himself to turn away, Donovan placed Mercury's mug on the bedside table. He settled himself in the chair beside the bed and took a mouthful from his own cup. To take his mind from what he'd really like to do, he considered his trip to Washington. Being Friday, if he didn't go down today, he would have to wait until after the weekend to see the necessary personnel in his office. He felt an urgency to set his move from D.C. in motion, the reason for this urgency now stirring on the bed. **

**Mercury's eyes opened, blinked up at the ceiling and closed. She sighed and smiled. Her eyes opened again then sleepily searched the room. Finding him, she gave another smile.**

**"Good morning," Donovan said. **

**"Good morning to you, stud." Mercury frowned, then bit her lip. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean–" **

**She must have seen him balk at her old nickname for him. He recovered quickly and smiled. "It's all right," he said. "Why are you sorry?"**

**"I wasn't thinking… you must be feeling… strange–" Mercury gathered the bed sheet to cover herself.**

**Donovan pushed out of his chair, his gaze locking with hers as he placed his empty mug carefully on the bedside table. **

**"I feel okay, actually," he said, his voice hoarse. He wasn't okay. His want of her – **_**need **_**– was pulling at him.**

**"Just… okay?" She reached up to tenderly caress his jaw.**

**"Better than okay." Donovan turned his ips into her palm, disguising his shortening breath. **

**"I feel good too." Her eyes locked with his.**

**Donovan swayed toward her.**

**"I'm glad you told me." Mercury dropped her eyes. **

**Donovan pulled back, raw with frustration. Now was not the time. Last night he had forcibly taken control away from her, but this morning he would allow her the initiative. His body ached as the silence between them grew, then Mercury turned away and propped herself up on the bed, arranging the pillows behind her.**

**He jerked in a breath and passed over her coffee, then sat on the edge of the bed. "We need to talk," he said. "Our future–"**

**"Yes?" He saw her startled interest before her eyes lowered to the mug in her hands.**

**"Where are we going to live?" **

**"Live?" Her eyes darted to his. "You mean in which town? Which apartment? Together? What?" **

**"All of the above," Donovan said, keeping his voice even, attempting to reassure her. "You can't leave New York. Kremzow has rung me already reminding me of your responsibilities to his investment." **

**"John?" Mercury pulled back in surprise. "He's phoned already? You?"**

**"Yes, apparently Stacey and Marcie both have put him on my trail."**

**"Really?" Mercury's smile slipped, her eyes narrowing. "And exactly what did you do to make Marcie feel she had to… be on your trail?"**

**Donovan tensed, aware that he had to tread carefully. He placed Mercury's coffee back on the bedside table and pulled her gently toward him, looking deep into her eyes.**

**"Marcie's history," he said. "Let me convince you of that." He kissed her, his attempt to merely set her mind at rest back-firing when he couldn't stop, exploring deeper and harder. His blood blazed, coursing through him as his body took over, pressing against hers. Scooping one hand underneath her, he pulled her to him fully, while the other tangled itself in her hair. **

_**Pull back! **_

**When Donovan dragged his head away, she was underneath him, her eyes closed, lips swollen. He felt his mouth being drawn down again, unable to fight the urge to cover hers.**

**"What… What did John want?" Mercury whispered.**

**And Donovan felt her withdrawal from him as a tangible thing. She wasn't ready. Whether to move past what he'd told her last night or to trust him with her future, he didn't know. He rolled from her and hunched on the edge of the bed, shoulders heavy, his body aching. He was every kind of bastard and he just couldn't get it right.**

**"To make sure I don't take you away from your work," Donovan said, his voice hollow.**

**"Is that what you want to do?"**

**"No, but I have to go back to D.C." **

**"You're leaving?" Mercury grasped his shoulder and spun him round to look at her.**

**"I need to go to Washington," he repeated. "Today." **

**"That will be fun," she said, her voice firm with bravado. "Will I get to see your apartment?"**

**"No, I'll be going alone."**

**"You're kidding, right?" **

**"I don't kid." His voice was sharper than he intended. "There's something I have to do–"**

**"Frank, surely… I mean, after last night… we need some time together." Her voice was measured and controlled, hinting at the effort she was making to keep her voice normal. "It's not too much to ask, is it?" **

**The question was a reasonable one, but Donovan heard the edge of suspicion in it. His neck started to ache. "Kremzow wants you on the stage tonight, Mercury. If you come with me, you won't be back in time." **

**"Then let's go Monday. I have no performance then."**

**"I don't want to put this off."**

**"Put what off?" Mercury's voice was hard with distrust now. "Frank–"**

**"Just loose ends. Work. My apartment," he said carefully, getting up from the bed. "I'll be back tonight. Perhaps you'll let me backstage without slapping me this time." It was a bad joke, but he was floundering, torn between needing to close his life in Washington as soon as possible and not wanting to hurt Mercury.**

**"Don't count on it. Dammit, Frank!" Scooting out the other side of the bed, she strode into the bathroom.**

_**Shit! **_**Donovan watched her go, angry with himself for fucking up again.****He allowed her privacy until he heard the shower running, then followed her.**

**"Mercury–"**

**"Go away, Frank."**

**Donovan stared helplessly at the glass door, watching the water run down her bowed neck and back, unsure what to do to salvage **_**this**_** screw-up.**

**"Shit!" He ripped the robe from his back, pulled open the shower door and slipped into the shower stall with her. Spinning her around, he gathered Mercury into his arms, needing to hold her, show her how he felt, because he didn't have the words to tell her. He held her tightly, his back taking the brunt of the water's heat, quelling her struggles until she calmed and stood limp in his arms.**

**"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I want this, Mercury. I want it badly. Just give me time." He sighed and tried again. "I want to make it work." **

**"Then let me into your life, Frank," she said, pushing away, still angry with him. "No secrets."**

_**No secrets.**_** He had too many to mention.**

**He held up his arms. "After tonight, Mercury. No secrets." Donovan hoped it was a promise he could keep.**

**"I don't know that I can believe you."**

**He held his breath, his eyes intent on hers. **

**"If you walk out on me again–" Mercury warned.**

**"That's not going to happen." **

**Donovan rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, sliding over their smoothness. Although their bodies were no longer touching, he could feel her heat radiate toward him, drawing him closer. He squeezed his eyes shut, his resolve to allow her to take the initiative diminishing rapidly.**

**"Will you give me that chance?" he grated, waiting for her decision, the warm spray of water on his back easing none of his tension. **

**She smoothed a hand across his ribs and he sucked in a breath. Donovan's eyes snapped open and he watched Mercury lick her lips as her gaze followed her fingers' progress down his wet skin – skin sensitized to her touch already. His heart hammered with the knowledge that she appreciated his body as much as he enjoyed hers. Mercury's palms flattened against his stomach and curved over his hips and Donovan couldn't prevent his involuntary thrust toward her.**

**"**_**Shit, Mercury!"**_** A groan rumbled in this throat. He held himself rigid, his body trembling with the effort, refusing to give in and blow it this time.**

**Tentatively touching her mouth to his, Mercury moved her lips over his, tongue flicking.**

**Donovan pressed into her, asking for permission, asking for a shelving of the issues between them. For now. For a little while longer.**

**She opened her mouth, giving him what he craved. Her surrender ignited Donovan and he rammed her to the shower wall before pulling back in apology. He cursed under his breath, his arms molding her to him as he buried his face in her neck, panting against her skin.**

**"Forgive me–"**

**Mercury grabbed his head, forcing him to meet her lips again. His body shuddered as he ground his mouth against hers, amazed at the frenzy they generated between them. If he considered going slowly or softly with her, the notion was dispelled by her pushing him against the other wall and mounting him. Donovan's muscles quivered with effort, his body aching to sink into her.**

**"Do it, Frank," she breathed. "Dear God, just do it!"**

**oOo**

**Donovan's eyes followed Mercury around the kitchen as she put their breakfast things away, acquainting herself with the contents of his cupboards. **

**"A no-nonsense man living a spartan life," she said, opening one cupboard that was completely empty. "You haven't changed." She darted a quick look at him then opened another cupboard stacked with four different flavors of coffee. "Except you're a lot neater and more organized than you used to be."**

**Donovan smiled as he leaned against the counter, his cell to his ear waiting for his connection. Cradling the phone on his shoulder, he rolled his white shirt sleeves to his elbows, still watching her.**

**He was aware of her avoiding eye contact with him, as unsure with their awkward truce as he was. Little had been resolved other than the realization that their bodies were more than willing to gap their emotional uncertainties.**

**"Don't bother getting too familiar with the layout," he said, crossing one trousered leg over the other. "I would have thought you'll want to make your apartment our base."**

**"Yours **_**is**_** pretty stark." Mercury agreed. "No clutter. Very cold. Not you at all."**

**"Others will disagree with you."**

**"They don't know you like I do." He saw the beginning of an impish grin before it slid away.**

**"I was referring to the fact that yours is a two-bedroom," he said, guilt tightening his nerves. "I presume you'll still want Stacey to visit–" He put up a hand. "Tom? Donovan here. Took you long enough to answer." He concentrated on his Washington two-I-C's response but his eyes couldn't look away from Mercury. His bathrobe swathed her slim body, but he had every curve memorized. She found the moussaka in the oven, grimaced, grinned at him, then scraped it into the waste bin. **

**"Frank? Is there a problem?" Tom Callahan asked, obviously not expecting this call.**

**"No problem," Donovan said quickly. "Three things, Tom. I want an All Personnel Meeting scheduled for four p.m. today and I need a car to meet me at Dulles Airport at two-fifteen."**

**"You're coming down again? It's only been a coupla days since–"**

**"Only for the meeting. I'm heading out again tonight."**

**"An A.P.M. sounds serious though. You sure there's no problem?"**

**"I'm sure."**

**"Okay then. Four p.m. it is. And a car to meet you at the airport. What's the third thing?"**

**Donovan met Mercury's eyes as she wiped down the table. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for another fall. "I'm getting married."**

**"**_**What?" **_**Tom's shout into Donovan's ear coincided with Mercury's gasp of shock. **

**She stared at him guardedly, almost hopefully, before launching herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Mercury hugged him tightly. He managed to close his cell, then stowed it in his shirt pocket and cradled her face in his hands. **

**"This is the only way I can keep you with me to prove what I've been trying to tell you," he said, injecting as much intensity into his voice as he could.**

**"You haven't even asked me," Mercury whispered.**

**"If I did, does this mean I'll get a 'yes'?"**

**"I have to be a masochist," she said with a hint of a smile, "but you would." **

**Donovan closed his eyes, relief washing over him. He balked at the 'masochist' part, but he wasn't going to make an issue of it. Undoing the belt of the bathrobe Mercury wore, Donovan smoothed his hands across her waist and down her hips, pulling her to him. Even that amount of contact was making his blood race and his body tighten, but he wasn't sure they had the time. Reluctantly, he closed the robe.**

**"Go get dressed," he urged, "if you want to go out before I catch my plane."**

**"Frank, do you have to–?"**

**"Yes," he said, firmly but as gently as he could.**

**Mercury bit her lip, then turned and left the kitchen.**

**Donovan took a couple of deep breaths to get his body under control again and straightened up from the counter.**

**"Frank? Where's my–?"**

**"On the coffee table," he called as he joined her in the living room, "along with another of my ripped shirts." He smiled, hope putting a spring into his step. "I'm going to have to change my clothes style to something without buttons." **

**oOo**

**Washington was looking bleak, the sky grey with drizzle and a threatening storm, the roads throwing back an oily spray under the wheels of the vehicle in front. The typical D.C. weather reflected the job Donovan had to do. He was used to negotiating these roads, but the rain-shy traffic forced him to concentrate on his driving.**

**Making it to the cramped parking lot at the rear of his apartment building, he squeezed the rented Nissan between two other parked cars, one of them his own black Lincoln. He secured the vehicle, then let himself into the building and took the stairs up to the third floor. Using his key, Donovan pushed the door open. A radio was playing softly in the background and he could hear the sound of a bath running. He made a point of shutting the front door firmly to announce his presence, not wanting to alarm the occupants. **

**A young woman poked her head out of the bathroom door and her face lit up at the sight of him.**

**"Franco!" she called delightedly. Turning, she looked back into the bathroom. "Look, Ciro. Look who is here."**

**Another face, much closer to the floor, peeped out of the bathroom, then resolved itself into a small missile that barreled down the hallway and threw itself at Donovan.**

**"**_**Papa!" **_**cried the little boy, as he wrapped his arms around Donovan's legs.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-Five**_

**Belicia nodded, her eyes downcast, and curled deeper into the large armchair on which she sat. "I knew this day might come, Franco," she said quietly, "but Ciro has become so… what is the word?… He is unable to let you go."**

**Donovan was seated on the sofa opposite her, his collar open and sleeves rolled, having already tucked Ciro into bed. He was weary from the previous night's lack of sleep, but he didn't want to put it off. **

**"And I him," he said, his spirit heavy. Ciro had been particularly clingy tonight when Donovan insisted it was time for bed. No doubt the little boy picked up on Donovan's own reluctance to swing Ciro from his lap and pull up the covers.**

**"We talked about this happening," Donovan sighed, "should one or both of us want to move on."**

**"I know," Belicia nodded. "But Ciro looks up to you. Loves you. He needs his **_**papi**_**."**

**"Licia, it was never my intention–"**

**"I know, I know." She bowed her head, her black shoulder-length hair swinging across her face. "It is my fault. I… how do you say?… encouraged him. Only… I hoped… we…" Belicia lifted her chin, took a deep breath and smiled gamely. "Do you love her? This… Mercury?"**

**"I wouldn't be doing this to you… and Ciro… if I didn't." Donovan leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees. His chest ached with his need for Mercury now, if only to have her sitting beside him, guiding him through this. "I want to marry her."**

**Belicia's eyes darted to his then down at her lap. "When do you leave?" **

**"I've already made arrangements with my department here to work out of New York," he said. "I'm going back tonight and will gradually make the transition over the next month." He rubbed his temples briefly before straightening. "Tom will be taking over my office in Washington and if you need anything urgent, contact him. Otherwise, you have my cell number." **

**"Why New York? Could you not bring her here? Ciro could see you–"**

**Uneasiness pricked at his nerves as he imagined Mercury's reaction to that arrangement. "She has commitments there. While she is under contract, I don't want to dislodge her. Not yet."**

**"But you have commitments too, Franco. Here." Belicia's tone sharpened with desperation.**

**He did, and he agonized over Ciro's growing attachment to him but he had been unable to stay away, looking after Belicia and Ciro for Ben's sake at first, then falling for the little boy's charm himself.**

**"I'm not abandoning you, Licia," he said, "just moving away."****Donovan's shoulders slumped, unsure how he was going to juggle his commitments.**

**"We could come to New York–"**

**"You're both still under CIA protection," Donovan interrupted. "It's safer for you here. Besides, this is Ciro's home. Do you really want to uproot him?" **

**Belicia made a sound of protest. "My son needs a **_**father**_** as well as a home."**

**"Licia…" He took her hands in his, his throat tight. Her fingers were cold, and he squeezed them gently, guilt driving his appeal to her. "I've known Mercury since I was in my twenties. I loved her then, only I didn't know how much until now."**

**Belicia nodded again. "I understand. I have never stopped loving Ben." She looked close to tears, her mouth working over her distress. "What will you tell Ciro?"**

**"He's accustomed to my leaving on long assignments. This will be just another one of them. I will visit as often as I can. When he's older–"**

**"He will miss you."**

**"He will forget me." Donovan's voice broke on the word, surprising himself with the anguish it caused him to say it.**

**"No, Franco. You are wrong. He will not. **_**We **_**will not."**

**oOo**

**Donovan eyed the stagehand warily, interested to see what reception he got back-stage at the theatre staging 'Magical Dreams' after his last time there, but the young man waved him in and escorted him with disinterest to Mercury's dressing room.**

**Mercury showed Donovan in with some hesitation and he understood why when he saw John Kremzow looking settled on the room's small sofa. **

**"Donovan." Kremzow glared at him, his voice clipped, remaining seated.**

**"Kremzow."**

**Mercury hugged Donovan, looking up at him as if she needed more. It wasn't enough for him either. He wanted to wrap himself around her and let her draw out the confused sorrow that clung to him since Washington. Instead, he lifted his chin and stared down at Kremzow, waiting for the man to excuse himself and leave.**

**"Mercury tells me she's getting married and will be leaving the theatre as soon as her contract runs out," Kremzow said bluntly.**

**Donovan squeezed Mercury's hand, surprised by her decision. "She has that right." **

**"I can't say I'm happy with the news." Kremzow rearranged himself on the sofa, leaning further back to fix Donovan with a glare. "This girl has a lot of potential and could go far. You're preventing that."**

**"I'm preventing nothing," Donovan said, tight-lipped. "Mercury has made her own choice." **

**He looked down at her, close at his side, her hands wrapped around his arm, her need for his security diminishing his own inner turmoil. She was still dressed in the closing scene's costume but had wiped her face free of makeup and looked twenty again. His resolve to do right by her strengthened.**

**Kremzow's mouth twisted, his face reddening against the lightness of his sandy hair. "Don't tell me you're not behind her throwing away her career–"**

**"John…" Mercury warned. "I haven't even talked to Frank about this yet. And I asked you not to start anything–"**

**Kremzow pushed himself from the sofa with a curse. "**_**I **_**didn't start anything. **_**He**_** did." He rounded on Mercury and Donovan pulled her closer still, wrapping a protective arm across her. "If you think a husband and family will fulfill you, you're kidding yourself, Mercury. You'll regret this, especially if you're staking your future on **_**him.**_**"**

**Donovan closed down on his instinctive rage with practiced ease. He urged Mercury behind him and faced Kremzow. "If you've forgotten where the door is, I'm quite willing to throw you through it in order to remind you," he said, his hands itching to do it.**

**"Typical," Kremzow said, smiling unpleasantly, "use force when you know I'm right but can't bear to hear it." He threw his hands in the air. "Fine. I'm off to find a new star then. No sweat. A cinch." He glowered at Donovan. "See you around." Kremzow strode out the door, slamming it behind him. **

**Donovan turned back to Mercury who shrugged and gave a forced smile. He pulled her into his arms, holding her fiercely, mindful he might be hurting her, but unable to let her go. The churning in his stomach was fear that Kremzow was right. Worse still, that Mercury would realize it. **

**"How was Washington?" she asked, her voice muffled in his neck, his skin tingling under her warm lips.**

_**Damnable. **_**"Okay."**

**"Did you get everything done?" **

_**No, I couldn't find a clone.**_** "No, but it's a start."**

**"What do we do now?" Her voice was soft and breathless, rousing his body.**

**He pulled away, needing to think clearly, and looked deep into her eyes. "Mercury–"**

**"You haven't kissed me yet, Frank." She smiled, her eyes luminous, mouth parted, inviting him to do just that.**

**Donovan didn't return the smile. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her. He reined himself in, and put his lips gently to hers. She accepted them, sighing into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Donovan was drawn deeply in, drowning in the sensation of her; her softness, her scent, her balm for his soul. He felt her acceptance of his inadequacies, in her body molded completely to him, returning kiss for kiss. **

**Donovan slid his mouth from hers, gently rubbing his jaw against her cheek. This morning he didn't intend telling her about Licia and Ciro, but now he wanted to. She deserved that much.**

**"Mercury, we have to talk–"**

**"Later, Frank." Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, but he arrested them.**

**"Not later. But not here." He didn't want her colleagues disturbing them. "Where can we go?"**

**Mercury drew back, her eyes darting to his. "What now, Frank? You're not going to leave again, are you?" Her hands struggled to free themselves from under his.**

**Feeling himself slide into unfamiliar territory again, Donovan could only repeat himself. "We need to talk." **

**Mercury looked at him, suspicion in her eyes and thinned lips. "Wait outside while I change," she said, pulling out of his arms.**

**Donovan's heart kicked and missed a beat. He turned and let himself out.**

**oOo**

_**Chapter Twenty-Six**_

**Mercury gazed into the dregs of her whiskey and lime and felt a buzz through her nerve endings that made her nauseous.**

**Frank's other life with Belicia and Ciro floored and alarmed her.**

**And she didn't know that she could do this. Accept this, get over it, get past it.**

**She loved Frank. She knew that. But he came to her so… burdened. He let her down badly when they were young, leaving her like he did. His experiences with Ana hadn't helped his relationships with women and now she learnt he had assumed responsibility for a family in Washington. **

**She didn't **_**want**_** to share him. The thought of another woman dependent upon him… Her arms ached and she looked down, not surprised to see her fingers curled into claws on her lap. She flexed her hands, wrapping them around her sweating glass.**

**Worse, she didn't know that **_**he**_** could do it.**

**And was it worth the risk? **

**Was **_**he**_** worth the risk?**

**Looking up, Mercury's gaze took in the man sitting opposite her. Frank was seated at a small table with her in the Hilton Times Square lounge and, being close to three a.m., it was almost deserted. The barman had disappeared, the pianist had packed up over an hour ago and the only other couple there caught her attention as they started to leave, laughing openly at something and holding hands as they walked. Mercury bit her lip, envy gnawing at her insides, and turned back to Frank.**

**He was stretched on a chair, his coat over its back, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to the elbow. One arm was propped against the armrest of the chair, the other was thrust forward, his fingers rocking the whiskey tumbler in front of him. Frank was as far away from her as he could get, his face set in stone. Mercury realized he'd cultivated that poker face **_**after**_** he left college and perfected it.**

_**Was he worth it?**_

**"How did you get them into the country?" she asked, despising the tremble in her voice. "What's more, enable them to stay here?"**

**Frank's eyes darted to hers then back to his glass. "Licia was only pregnant at the time. Ciro was born here–"**

**"But the red tape? And Ben married her while he was undercover? Can he do that? Is it legal?" She was asking questions rapid-fire, more to keep her fears at bay than a need to know the answers.**

**"Once the Chunayan pádre confirmed their marriage to me, I did everything I could to get her out of there."**

**Mercury already knew Frank blamed himself for Ben's death. This was his way to make amends. **

**Frank sighed heavily. "The Director of the FBI just about owns my soul by now. My only regret is that Ben felt he couldn't confide in me about his marriage." His voice drifted off and the silence stretched between them again. **

**Mercury's eyes traveled him as she again considered what was left of Frank to claim for herself. "You feel responsible for Licia and Ciro?" she asked, knowing the answer.**

**"I'm the only male role-model he's known."**

**"**_**Shit**_**, Frank! What does that mean?" she snapped, her fear escalating.**

**Frank's lips thinned and his eyes were hard dark stones in the muted lighting. "He looks upon me as his father."**

**"That's what I thought." Mercury bit her lip, close to tears. "Thank you for being honest." She took a deep breath, not wanting to attack him about this. Frank was full of surprises and she feared there were more to come.**

**"And Licia?"**

**"Ben loved her. I let him down once. I'm not going to do it again."**

**"I understand that." Mercury gave an exasperated sigh. "But what does she expect from you?"**

**"We have… had an arrangement that I would look after Ciro's and her needs."**

**Something vicious clawed at Mercury's stomach and she gripped her glass till her fingers hurt. "You mean you sleep with her whenever you're… in town."**

**His eyes narrowed, his jaw thrusting forward. "I didn't say that."**

**"You didn't deny it either!"**

**Frank jerked his head, the shadows shifting across his face, and Mercury shivered. He looked predatory and dangerous.**

**"Have you?" Mercury whispered.**

**"Slept with her? Yes. It didn't work out."**

**"**_**Shit, Frank!**_**" Mercury erupted from her seat, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. She spun around, but her wrist was grabbed and held, then Frank was behind her, his lips at her ear, his beard scraping shivers across her skin.**

**"Mercury… please. Sit down."**

**She wanted to, but she was afraid to learn more; that if she stayed, she would demand to know more, and then regret it.**

**"Let me go, Frank," she said, her command more an agonized appeal. Mercury was confused with her body's reaction to his jaw against her hair, his breath fanning her cheek, his hand, warm and firm on her wrist. Dear God, she still wanted him, even knowing how easily he could hurt her again.**

**"Tell me what that has to do with **_**us**_**, here and now, and I will," he said, his voice sending a shiver through to her heart.**

**"Isn't sleeping with the woman Ben loved considered letting his memory down?" she whispered.**

**Frank sighed deeply, disturbing the hair at her nape. Her stomach twisted painfully. "It only happened once. Licia… she…"**

**"Seduced you?" Mercury lifted her chin as she laughed, the sound hollow and tortured. "Come on, Frank–"**

**She felt him tense and his grip on her wrist hurt. Mercury's head dropped. "I love you, Frank," she said, breathless, "but I don't know if I can…"**

**"Trust me?" The bitterness in his voice stabbed at her heart. "You want to hold every transgression up for review like it's going to happen again and again? Is that it? You don't think I can learn from my mistakes **_**as well as**_** have to pay for them?" **

**He spun her round, too roughly, and she cried out, her eyes flying to his.**

**"I'm a bastard, yes," he grated. "I hurt you badly, but I want another chance." He grabbed her upper arms and drew her closer. "Can you give me that?"**

**His fingers dug into her flesh and the anger blazing in his eyes frightened her, but she loved him. She was damned to love him and be hurt by him and when he was away from her with his work, she would no doubt fear for him. But could she bear to **_**not**_** have him in her life?**

**"You don't realize what you're asking of me," she said, her eyes snared by the violence in his. "How can my heart feel safe–?" **

**He pulled back his hands as if she'd burned him. "Safe? If you want safe, you're not going to get it here. I can't **_**guarantee**_** anything–" Frank folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not the one who's going to walk away this time, Mercury. Not any more. It will be your choice. Go now or stay."**

**She could walk away, knowing he'd make sure she never saw him again, or be with him, taking what she could get. Mercury wished Frank would somehow make it easier for her. But, except for his eyes, dark, alert and watching her, his face was a chiseled mask.**

**Mercury's next breath caught in her throat. "I want to be with you." She swallowed hard. "Whatever that brings."**

**Frank groaned and folded her to him. "Give me the opportunity," he said, tucking her head under his chin. "To make this work. For both of us."**

**She nodded against his shoulder and started trembling. He held her closer and it felt so good to be in his arms. So right, so safe. Mercury smoothed her hands across his ribs and up his back, clinging to him, afraid to let him go. Her breaths were short and erratic, and she silently prayed for the strength she would need to accept Frank on such terms.**

**oOo**

_**Author's Note: Mercury returns in short stories which occur during the UC:Undercover timeline.**_


End file.
